







































Class ^_Z-3. 

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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 





Up the WITCH BROOK ROAD 


4 


COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY 
J. F. TAYLOR AND 
COMPANY, NEW YORK 

Published July^ iqo 2 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Cowts Reosived 

SEP. 3U 1902 

Coi^towr PNTi»v 

I 

C»,AS8 et^Xo. No. 

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THIS BOOK 

IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF 
MY MOTHER, PRISCILLA, AND OF HER SISTER DORCAS 
AND TO THEIR STILL LIVING SISTERS, 
TIRZAH AND ABIGAIL. 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 




PAGE 

I. A Runaway .... 




11 

II. A Heroine 




27 

III. A Lover 




51 

IV. A Visit 




69 

V. Shannah 




91 

VI. Was She Jealous ? 




111 

VII. An Old Blacksmith. 




131 

VIII. An Indiscretion. . 




149 

IX. A Sensation 




169 

X. A Mysterious Ignorance. 




189 

XI. A Worried Household. 




207 

XII. The Inquest 




226 

XIII. An Unexpected Witness. 




245 

XIV. Silas Doty’s Confession. 




263 

XV. A Picnic 




283 

XVI. A Problem Solved. 




303 

XVII. A Sylvan Scene. . 




323 

XVIII. An Announcement. 




339 

XIX. Sorrow and Joy Alternate. . 




353 



I 

A RUNAWAY 


“ A brook, like a person, has its fortunes with one : is lucky 
or unlucky in the precise moment of its falling in our way, 
and often, by some happy accident, counts with us for some- 
thing more than its independent value.” 

Walter Pater ^ in ** Marius the Ejpicurean.” 



up the Witch Brook Road 


CHAPTER I 

A Runaway 

I T was when I was about seven years old 
that the horse ran away. As every- 
thing in the family, for several years 
before and after that event, was historically 
dated accordingly, it made a lasting impres- 
sion upon my childish mind. This was 
strengthened by the romantic and exciting 
complications which followed. It was, as I 
now see, the most wonderful period of my life 
— which, indeed, has been rather tame and 
commonplace during the long years since then. 
My children and grandchildren complain that 
I forget the happenings of last year, and even 
of yesterday ; but every trifling incident of that 
long, strange summer after the horse ran away 
stands out clearly in my mind. 

My young mother, who had been old 


II 


up the Witch Brook Road 


Square Wells’s eldest child, had died in 
the South when I was a baby. My Southern 
father had died soon afterward, and I had 
fallen to the care of my maternal grandparents 
and their daughters, and especially of my 
mother’s next younger sister, Apphia. Three 
sons had been bom between my mother and 
my Aunt Apphia, but they had all died in in- 
fancy. 

My Aunt Apphia, who was my idol then and 
has been ever since, was at this time about 
twenty-six years old and very beautiful. Her 
auburn hair curled closely all over her head, 
and hung across her fair temples in two long 
ringlets at each side, according to a fashion 
of the time — the late forties of the last cen- 
tury. Her eyes were dark hazel in hue, large 
and very bright, and her complexion was 
smooth and delicate. She was, like all of my 
grandfather’s family, of only average height, 
but she was slight, alert and graceful in move- 
ment. Her nature was passionately self-sacri- 
ficing. She seemed to live entirely for me and 
for her sisters and parents. She would have 
made a good heroine in that class of fiction in 
which the self-effacing damsel lends herself 
joyously to be the football of destiny; except 


12 


A Runaway 


that she was endowed with a delicious sense of 
humor, and a fiery temper, which not even her 
stern Puritan training and high principle 
could always control. She and my other aunts 
were fine scholars, and usually taught a term 
or more each year in one of the village or near- 
by district schools. 

My Grandfather Wells hated to drive, and 
there was a well-grounded belief in the family 
that he could not; though he had to keep a 
horse, and consequently drove more or less 
nearly every day. I remember well my own 
trepidation as I often sat shuddering beside 
him in the old carriage, while he drove along, 
jerking the reins gently and clucking without 
pause, but utterly oblivious of what he was 
doing. He was wont to pursue a straight 
course, budging for nobody, and absorbed in 
his own thoughts. Often he would cease to 
cluck in order to recite some poem in a low, 
wavering voice. I should have greatly enjoyed 
these literary privileges if I had not been so 
much afraid of running into people. It was 
currently believed that ^‘Square” Wells had 
locked wheels with nearly every vehicle in 
town. 

When the ladies of the family rode forth in 

13 


up the Witch Brook Road 


the afternoons for pleasure, sedately packed 
into the old-fashioned, covered carry-all. Aunt 
Apphia always drove — quietly and admirably, 
as she did everything, especially every- 
thing relating to a horse. She was a born 
horsewoman, and never showed to better ad- 
vantage than on old Tansy^s back. Our horse 
was named Tansy on account of her tan color, 
and was esteemed a judicious and sweet- 
tempered beast. She had become endeared 
to the family during her fourteen years of 
service, and the last syllable of her name had 
been added partly as a mark of this fondness ; 
\ind also partly because Tansy’s character was 
tinctured with a certain agreeable pungency, 
like the wayside herb of spicy savor. 

On the afternoon of the momentous day of 
which I have spoken, Josiah Vibber, the hired 
man, brought around Tansy to the front door, 
and waited for us to come out. Josiah, by the 
way, was a descendant of a Revolutionary 
Hessian, who had settled down in this country 
after the war, and had married a native 
farmer’s daughter. The Vibber ” was doubt- 
less a corruption of “ Weber.” Josiah’s col- 
lege-bred posterity call it an Anglicization.” 

My grandparents believed in scriptural ap- 

14 


A Runaway 


pellations — though, to do them justice, Apphia, 
Jerusha and Leah, as my three aunts were 
christened, were all family names. Grand- 
mother's name was Apphia, and so had been 
her mother’s before her. 

Presently my aunts appeared, in their pretty 
Thibet gowns and broadcloth capes; for the 
air was still sharp, though May had come in 
some days before. Aunt Jerusha, commonly 
called Jerry,” and Aunt Leah climbed into 
the back seat. Then Cousin Calista Summers, 
who lived with us, and Aunt Apphia and I, 
took our places in front, and off we started. 

Tansy was a remarkably large, strong and 
handsome horse, and Josiah took good care of 
her. The harness was old, but fine, and the 
carry-all was rather elegant, so that, though 
the Square,” who drove his law-business 
much as he did his horse, was not rich and 
never would be, his family presented no mean 
appearance when they were rolling through 
the village street behind Tansy. 

At this time she had been known, in spite 
of frequent opportunities and even strong 
provocations, to run away but once. Then my 
grandfather had been out with her in the 
lumber wagon,” getting potatoes from a dis- 

15 


up the Witch Brook Road 


tant part of his farm, called the island,” be- 
cause at flood-times an arm of the river en- 
circled it. This arm was the merest rill during 
most of the year, and, in spite of the fact that 
it was noted for a certain fertility in snakes, 
it was a favorite place of amusement for me, 
when grandfather allowed me occasionally to 
go with him and Josiah to “ farm the island.” 
The snakes there were called by a title which 
until I was a large girl I supposed to be 
chickadaddles.” 

On the day of that first runaway, Josiah had 
not gone with grandfather, who had left home 
shortly after eight in the morning. It was 
nearly four when the dear old man came up 
the walk on foot, with his bald head cut and 
bleeding and a dazed look on his kind face. A 
trail of potatoes extended for a mile or more 
up the road, and the lumber wagon reposed in 
fragments a few rods away. Grandfather 
never told anybody exactly what had hap- 
pened ; and my aunts, who adored Tansy, and 
considered their father’s driving as bad enough 
to account for anything, never blamed the 
good old beast. 

It is said that, after a horse has once tasted 
the delights of running away, he cannot rest 

16 


A Runaway 


until he tries it again. It is as the first sip 
of blood to the tamed wolf. But my aunts 
had never heard of this theory, and they would 
not have believed such a thing possible of 
Tansy, in any case. Therefore, we were all 
very happy on that beautiful May afternoon, 
as we jogged along the rather sandy road which 
lay for miles beside the sparkling river. The 
season had been late and wet, but now the 
lilacs were budding, and the one wistaria vine 
in town, which wound in great cables over the 
low roof of Mr. Duncan Dart^s house, was effer- 
vescing in mammoth lavender clusters. 

Cousin Calista went into raptures over them, 
as we drove up to Mr. Dart’s door. I thought 
her silly to say so much about them. She was 
fond of pretending to be very young, and talk- 
ing in a species of baby dialect which was 
offensive to me. It was a plague that I could 
not find out just how old she was. When I 
asked Aunt Apphia, she said, “ Oh, about the 
age of the rest of us,” and that was all I could 
get out of her. Cousin Calista had yellowish 
curls, which hung in pairs at each side of her 
face, just as Aunt Apphia’s did, and she was 
blonde,” Aunt Leah said, while Aunt Ap- 
phia was brown ” ; but I could see, much as I 

17 


up the Witch Brook Road 


hated to admit it, that they looked alike, in 
spite of an utter unlikeness in their characters. 
Cousin Calista was always wheedling and af- 
fected and plotting, it seemed to me, while 
Aunt Apphia was as open as the sky at noon- 
day. 

It was Saturday, and the object of our drive 
was to gather flowers for the decoration of the 
church for the Sunday services. Mrs. Dart 
promised to bring a branch of wistaria to hang 
across the front of the pulpit. Then we drove 
on five or six miles further to a quiet forest 
road. We reined up beside a low stone wall, 
and all of the rest alighted to gather flowers, 
while I was allowed, as a great favor, to re- 
main in the carriage and hold the horse.” 
These particular woods were very famous 
for their flowers, and now they were aglow 
with blossoms, many of which, on account of 
the long winter, were a heritage to May from 
April. Bloodroot, liverwort, ladies’ slippers, 
blue, yellow and white violets, trilliums and 
anemones were everywhere. 

For a while I could hear my aunts calling 
to each other from the different parts of the 
grove : “ Here’s the knoll where the trilliums 
were so thick last year — not one here now, 

i8 


A Runaway 


but plenty over in that swamp there — how 
queer!” Or, Here are a million anemones 
in a new place.” Or, “ These hollows are 
simply lined with spring beauties.” 

After awhile I heard Cousin Calista shout. 

We sha^n’t have to go up on the rocks for 
columbine, as we did last year. Here it 
is by the handful — and no end of crane’s 
bill.” 

This was the last word that I heard from 
them, and presently they were all out of sight, 
and the very sound of their voices became a 
vague and indistinguishable part of the sweet 
forest murmur. 

I began to feel rather lonely. Holding 
the horse” was not the unmixed bliss which 
my fancy had painted. It seemed as though 
I had never been in such a desolate spot be- 
fore, in spite of all the greenness and flowers. 
I grasped the lines ” more tightly, and was 
just settling myself more firmly into my seat, 
with a little sigh, when a great old sheep came 
rushing, as it were, out of nowhere, and 
charged madly at Tansy, belching forth a start- 
ling “ Ba-a-a.” 

Tansy gave one frightened plunge, making 
the carry-all shiver and tip in every direction, 

19 


up the Witch Brook Road 


and then she ran with all her might — ran in 
long, jerky gallops, which scared me almost 
to death. 

Down on my knees I plumped, leaning over 
the dashboard and clinging desperately to the 
reins. Nature had gifted me with excellent 
lungs, and, as we sped along, I shrieked and 
howled at the top of my voice. This did not 
abate Tansy’s panic. Up hill and down she 
tore with unlessening speed. The road was a 
lonely one, but we passed an occasional farm- 
house, and then I screeched with more fervor 
than ever. Now and then a man in the fields 
started in pursuit of us — but Tansy was going 
like lightning, and left all followers far be- 
hind. 

My poor frenzied little mind cast wildly 
about for expedients, but I could think of 
nothing to do except to hold on to the reins 
and try to keep from being thrown out. Here 
and there we passed just above the river on 
high and rocky ledges, and I uttered shriller 
wails than ever. Again, we rattled across 
rude bridges, and a picture would fiash before 
me of myself lying in the water under them, 
with the swift waves closing over my little 
face, and my body fioating down, down to the 


20 


A Runaway 


great falls, a dozen or more miles away, and 
then hurtling and thumping over them. 

It was twenty minutes or more of perfect 
agony — and all the while I was in mortal 
terror, above everything else, of meeting a 
team — a fear which the complaints of the 
family had rendered chronic with me when I 
rode with grandfather, and which was now 
only more acute. 

Suddenly I heard a loud yelling in front of 
me, where a brook crossed my road, and a 
branch road, which followed it, came in. Two 
young men were rushing down that branch 
road toward ma Their arms were wide out- 
stretched, and they seemed to me the most 
beautiful beings that I had ever beheld. By 
this time my poor parched throat could 
scarcely give forth a sound, but I made a last 
supreme effort, and they seemed to respond 
pityingly to my appeal. I imagined^ that they 
were saying, “We will save you or die.” The 
last thing that I remember was a vision of 
those two heaven-sent figures running toward 
me, one on either side of the narrow road, and 
each with an outstretched arm. Then there 
was a back-breaking jerk. I felt myself flying 
through the air — and I knew nothing more. 


21 


up the Witch Brook Road 


When I came to myself, I was in the arms 
of one of the young men, who was soothing me 
like a mother. We were sitting beside the 
little brook, into which, from time to time, he 
dipped his hand and then sprinkled my face. 
Not far away sat his friend, and, to my utter 
amazement, in his arms lay my Aunt Apphia, 
her pretty Thibet gown soiled and torn, her 
small hands scratched and bleeding, and her 
face like marble. 

As I looked about in a dazed way, I took 
in nothing definite except that face and figure. 
Then I fell back, moaning, Oh, my auntie 
is dead ! Oh, auntie, auntie ! ” and went off 
again into unconsciousness. When I awoke 
a second time, I was lying on the stones, and 
my friend was dashing water frantically over 
my head, until my long yellow curls were 
drenched. I sat up slowly. Then I heard Aunt 
Apphia groaning. This meant that she was at 
least alive, and I took heart. She still lay 
across the arms of the other young man, and 
her face was still deathly white, but she moved 
her hands even while I was looking at her, and 
her groans continued. 

The young men talked softly together. I 
thought their voices the most musical that I 




A Runaway 


had ever heard. When at last I sat up, my 
especial protector left me and went over to 
help his friend, who called out to me, “ Sit 
still, little girl. Yon^re all right, I reckon.” 

I had never heard any one say, “ I reckon ”, 
since my father had died in my babyhood. 
One of my few distinct recollections of his 
speech had been of that ‘‘ I reckon ”, and my 
heart warmed more than ever toward the 
young man who had rescued me. Incidentally, 
I may remark that very early in my life I 
remember thinking it strange that the 
unreckoning Southerner should habitually 
reckon ”, while his thrifty and careful North- 
ern brother should prefer to guess.” 

Both of the young men now hung over Aunt 
Apphia, and I saw that one of them had a 
pocket-cup into which, from time to time, he 
poured a few drops from a flask, and then 
gave her a draught. 

She is coming to, Dick,” said, at last, the 
one who was holding her. He spoke very 
gravely. I hate to lay her down on those 
rough stones. Here — ^spread out my coat for 
her head. There—that grassy place isn't so 
bad. It might shock her into fainting again if 
she woke up and found me holding her.” 

23 


up the Witch Brook Road 


She makes me think of a white rose,” said 
the other one softly, as they made the transfer. 
He called his friend “ George.” Cousin Cal- 
ista’s father had been Aunt Apphia’s Uncle 
George,” and the name made me feel as though 
these young men might properly be recognized 
as family friends. 

George,” he said, “ my arms ache like the 
deuce. Did you ever feel anything pull like 
that confounded brute?” 

This sort of language was new to me, but 
it did not offend me. 

<< I’ve got a strain in my back which will 
make practical mining impossible for some 
days to come,” answered “ George,” still 
gravely. 

At that instant Aunt Apphia’s moans be- 
came louder, and she sprang to her feet with 
a startled cry. 

“ Barbara ! ” she murmured, in an agonized 
tone. “ Where is Barbara? ” 


24 


A HEROINE 


** — thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise 
And make it halt behind her.” 

Prospero, in the “ Tempest.** 


CHAPTER II 


A Heroine 

“ TJ'ERB I am, auntie!” I wailed, sob- 
I I bing piteously in my weakness 
and bewilderment. I tried to crawl 
toward her, but I could not, because my 
knees were lame and I felt sore and shaken 
all over. The mere sound of my voice, how- 
ever, seemed to reassure her. She opened her 
beautiful hazel eyes, and light and color over- 
spread her face. Then she sat down slowly, 
while the young men fell back to a respectful 
distance, removing their hats, with a scrupu- 
lous regard to etiquette which was foreign to 
the customs of our little village. They were 
dressed in a rough but picturesque costume, 
and seemed to me to belong to a species of 
demi-gods; and though I afterward came to 
know them well and they made a great pet of 
me, I never quite recovered from the slight 
awe of them which began beside the brook that 
day. 

Aunt Apphia put her hand to her forehead 
27 


up the Witch Brook Road 


and looked around her in a dazed way. The 
young man named George ” bent over her 
deferentially, and said in a gentle voice, while 
the color mounted up into his face, You are 
all right. Don’t be worried about the child. 
All that either of you needed was a little care, 
and, as luck would have it, we were on hand to 
give it. My name is George Holly, and this is 
my friend, Richard Perrine.” 

My name is Apphia Wells,” murmured 
Aunt Apphia faintly, “ and this is my little 
niece, Barbara. Are you sure — oh, are you 
sure ” 

She looked toward me, and the red began 
again to fade out from her face. 

I can’t stand up very well, auntie,” I piped 
up, cheerfully, “ or I would come over there.” 

She staggered to her feet and tried to walk 
toward me, but she had taken scarcely two 
steps when she swayed to one side, fainting 
again. Both of the young men sprang to save 
her, but it was again into the arms of Mr. 
George Holly that she fell. I had already de- 
cided that, though both of them were good- 
looking, he was the handsomer, as he was the 
larger, of the two, and I liked him better than 

Dick.” 


28 


A Heroine 


Water! Water!” cried George Holly, 
impatiently. 

His friend brought a cupful, and presently 
Aunt Apphia revived again. This time she 
was quite herself for several minutes, bending 
over me and caressing me and going into a 
delirium bf joy over me. Then she turned to- 
ward the young men, to whom she had as yet 
paid little heed, and her voice choked as 
she said brokenly, “ I can’t thank you enough 
— ever. You have saved her life — the dearest 
thing on earth to me. She has been mine for 
six years — ever since her mother died — and 
you can imagine how I love her. It would kill 
me to lose her. You must let us do something 
for you. Oh, my father will ” 

Here her emotion became too much for her 
once more, and, even while she was holding 
out her hand to Mr. George Holly, she swayed 
again, and again he caught her and saved her 
from a bad fall on the brookside stones. 

This little drama of alternate swooning and 
recovery might have gone on indefinitely — for, 
as I remembered it afterward, I could see that 
it was most agreeable to Mr. George Holly — 
but for the fact that, just as Aunt Apphia 
straightened up for the third time, the rattle 
29 


up the Witch Brook Road 


of a cart was heard, and presently a farmer 
whom we had always known, and who lived 
in a house near the woods in which we had 
been picking flowers, drove up noisily. He 
brought with him, huddled tearfully together 
on the rude cross-boards of his farm-wagon. 
Aunt Jerry, Aunt Leah and Cousin Calista, 
all of them agitated nearly to the point of 
hysterics. 

There was a perfect Babel of exclamations, 
explanations and introductions, and the tears 
of the young ladies were dried when they saw 
that both Aunt Apphia and I, though 
scratched and bruised and besmirched, were 
safe and in good hands. Perhaps a better way 
of describing their condition would be to say 
that their agitation was not allayed, but only 
changed to a more agreeable kind. Cousin 
Calista was especially exhilarated at the sight 
of these handsome and well-behaved youths. 
She began at once to “ make eyes ” at them 
and to talk in what I have since heard called 
“ the artless prattle style ” of conversation, 
which she was apt to affect in company. 

“ It was perfectly wonderful to see you ride 
off bareback on that dreadful horse, Affie!” 
she cried, glowingly. 


30 


A Heroine 


“ You would have wondered more if you 
could have seen me fall off three or four 
times,” laughed Aunt Apphia, who, except for 
a pronounced nervousness, seemed quite like 
herself by this time. 

“ Where did you get it? I don’t under- 
stand,” gasped Aunt Leah. 

Why, I told you,” answered Cousin Ca- 
lista, rather sharply, and seizing the narrative 
for herself. ‘‘ Just as soon as we heard that 
wild rattle of the carry-all and then Barbara 
screaming, Affie flew through the woods and 
down the road. You were rods away, but I 
was pretty near, and I dragged along after 
her, getting further and further behind every 
instant. I was running as fast as I could, too. 
Then I saw Affie climb over the wall and rush 
into Mr. Beals’s pasture, and begin to call 
most winsomely to old Jack. Why under the 
sun did you choose old Jack, Affie? ” 

“ I knew Jack wasn’t the most amiable 
beast in the world,” admitted Aunt Apphia, 
smilingly turning to Mr. Beals, who gave his 
head an expressive wrench. The vagaries of 
Beals’s old Jack ” were familiar to every man 
for miles around. He was the nearest to the 
modern bucking broncho” then known in 

31 


up the Witch Brook Road 


that neighborhood; but he could drag more 
hay and heavier stone-boats, and could travel 
faster, than any other horse in town. 

“ But I knew, too,” continued Aunt Apphia, 
“ that he was strong and could go — and, be- 
sides, he was close by, while the others were 
ever so far away. I knew he would throw me 
off, and he did. But every time he threw me 
off, he would run a little way and then stand 
still and let me get on again. Then I would 
hold on to his mane as hard as I could, and 
lie perfectly flat on his back, like a circus per- 
former — and chirrup to him, and strike him 
with my hand — and he went like the wind. I 
don’t mind his throwing me off — oh, he is the 
only horse on earth which could have come 
anywhere near that wicked Tansy ! ” 

Aunt Apphia’s voice broke, and she began 
to sob. 

“ It was a brilliant feat of horsemanship,” 
burst in Mr. George Holly, with an eagerness 
which testified not only to his fervent admira- 
tion of Aunt Apphia, but to his essentially 
masculine dislike to see a woman cry. “ You 
are a heroine. Miss Wells.” 

The young men around Birchmont village 
did not speak in this way, but we had many 
32 


A Heroine 


city relatives who visited us from time to time, 
and my aunts and Cousin Calista had attended 
city boarding schools, so that we all, with a 
pleasant thrill, detected at once the fact that, 
somehow or other, two men possessed of urban 
culture had stumbled into these wilds. 

Mr. Holly ^s tone and compliment restored 
Aunt Apphia’s self-control, and she retorted, 
with a half-indignant catch in her voice, “ In- 
deed, I am no heroine at all, I am simply a 
young woman who has been used, from her 
cradle, to horseback riding. I can ride on any 
sort of a saddle, and almost as well without 
any. There seemed to be no other horse avail- 
able, so I took Jack. Why, Mr. Beals, where 
is Jack? ” 

Sure enough, there was no Jack in sight. 
We all began to look around in an anxious 
way, especially the two young men, who 
started up guiltily, but Mr. Beals reassured 
us by bursting forth disgustedly, “ ^ Whereas 
Jack? ’ I don’t know nor care. Gol darn his 
old hide, I say — an’ I don’t care who hears me. 
Why, when I think. Miss Affie— ” his rough 
old voice shook, and the tears started to the 
eyes of us all, in spite of the way in which 
we had laughed at him, to begin with— 

33 


XJp the Witch Brook Road 


when I think how that dum old brute sarved 
ye — why, Miss Affie, I could kill him. Ihn 
afeard I would kill him if I had him here now 
— I am, sure as ye live. It’s a wonder you 
ain’t killed. How did you ever durst to git 
onto him so many times? The Square had 
orter be proud on ye — I swan he had ! ” 

“ Oh, don’t, Mr. Beals ! ” cried Aunt Appliia, 
looking very lovely, as she sat blushing on a 
big stone, with her tangled curls shining 
around her face. “ You mustn’t talk so — and, 
above all, when Jack comes back to you, as he 
probably will, don’t you hurt him. I fairly 
love him for getting me here so quickly. Why, 
Mr. Holly tells me that I was not more than 
ten or twelve minutes behind Tansy — and just 
think how she was going! But we ought not 
to stay here any longer. Such accidents are 
always heard of — and probably dreadful 
things will be said all over the village, and 
father and mother will be alarmed.” 

She sprang up, forgetting her disabilities. 
Then she found that she could scarcely step, 
and Aunt Leah and Cousin Calista flew to her 
side to help her, before either of the young 
men could get there. Eichard Perrine lifted 

34 


A Heroine 


me in his arms, while Aunt Jerry held my 
hand. Mr. Beals turned his springless old cart 
around, and, one by one, we were bestowed on 
the rough seats which had been improvised 
in it. Aunt Leah and Cousin Calista could 
not, of course, lift Aunt Apphia into this un- 
couth vehicle, but the useful Mr. Holly was 
close beside them. Aunt Apphia^s face flushed 
scarlet, as, apologizing for having to clasp 
her so tightly, he hoisted her up quite over 
the side plank and into Mr. Bealses brawny 
arms. Both of the young men were tall and 
well set up, and the effort of carrying any one 
of us would not have been too much for either 
one of them. Aunt Apphia’s weight, which, 
indeed, was little more than a hundred 
pounds, seemed nothing at all to George Holly, 
in spite of the strain which he must have suf- 
fered in stopping our runaway horse. Tansy, 
by the way, had been tied in the bushes beside 
the brook, and was now ready to be led home 
behind our equipage. Aunt Jerry holding the 
halter. The carry-all was considerably broken 
up. The young men dragged it into a patch 
of woods not far away, and the next day my 
grandfather went, with a blacksmith, to get it 

35 


up the Witch Brook Road 


It was repaired, and seemed then as good as 
ever. I rode in it almost daily until I was a 
woman grown. 

Aunt Apphia and I were deposited in the 
middle of the wagon, as that was considered 
the most comfortable portion. Aunt Apphia 
sat on a crossboard, propped against the knees 
of Aunt Leah, who, with Aunt Jerry, occupied 
the back seat. Cousin Calista sat beside Mr. 
Beals in front. I lay in the bottom of the 
wagon, with my head in Aunt Apphia^s lap, 
and a coat of Mr. Holly’s wrapped around my 
shoulders. 

When at last we were ready to start for 
home, we bade our young benefactors farewell, 
with much regret. We had a drive of fourteen 
miles before us, and the roads were rough, but 
the young men assured us that they rode on 
horseback a great deal, and would not in the 
least mind the trifling expedition to the vil- 
lage. They would certainly do themselves the 
honor to ride down and inquire for us within 
a few days — as soon as they felt that such in- 
valids had had time to regain their strength. 

Suddenly Cousin Calista cried out, just as 
we were about to drive away, “ Why, girls, this 
is Witch Brook. Don’t you remember when 
36 


A Heroine 


Uncle Wells brought us up here, a year or two 
ago? He has told us many times about the 
witch’s house, a mile or more up the stream 
from here, and we have always been planning 
to have a picnic there.” 

Oh, yes, this is the Witch Brook road,” 
corroborated Richard Perrine. We live 
about two miles up yonder. We pass near the 
old house every time we come down.” 

Oh, do you? ” breathed Cousin Calista, 
shudderingly. “ How fascinating ! And will 
you take us up there some time? ” 

‘‘ Oh, certainly ! ” replied the young man 
with enthusiasm. 

“ My father is going to take us up,” broke 
in Aunt Jerry, flushing rather proudly, and 
looking with a slight air of reproof toward 
Cousin Calista. 

Oh, well — anyhow ! ” laughed that irre- 
pressible maiden. ‘‘ I don’t care, so long as we 
get there. Things seem to happen on this Witch 
Brook road, don’t they? ” — looking archly into 
the eyes of the waiting youths. There was 
the old witch, with all her black cats and caul- 
drons and rabbits that Uncle Wells has told 
us about — and now our runaway.” 

But still the witches,” laughed Richard 

37 


up the Witch Brook Road 


Perrine back to her ; only witches of a much 
sweeter and better kind.” 

We rode away amid a gale of laughter, and, 
in spite of our bruises. Aunt Apphia and I 
bumped over those fourteen terrible miles 
without very great discomfort. By the time 
that we were fairly out of sight of our new 
friends. Cousin Calista and my two younger 
aunts had assaulted Mr. Beals with a storm 
of questions concerning them. None of us 
were familiar with this far-off neighborhood, 
but he lived fully six miles nearer to it, and 
we felt as though he ought to know something 
of these attractive and unusual young men. 
A brighter person might have observed more, 
but Jonas Beals seemed neither to have seen 
nor heard anything of them. 

Oh, dear ! If we only knew who they are 
and what they are doing off on the hills up 
that god-forsaken Witch Brook road ! ” sighed 
Cousin Calista. 

Oh, you will know before long,” Aunt 
J erry told her, with an air of impatience at her 
curiosity, though Aunt Jerry, privately, was 
just as curious. She was the only member of 
the family who dared to snub Cousin Calista, 
and she seldom lost an opportunity to do it. 

38 


A Heroine 


I’d like to know how ? ” demanded Cousin 
Calista tartly. 

Probably plenty of people in the village 
know, even if we do not happen to,” rejoined 
Aunt Jerry coolly. Anyway, they said they 
were coming to call.” 

“ Maybe they will, and maybe they won’t,” 
sighed Cousin Calista; but in my soul I knew 
very well that they would. 

My Aunt Jerry was generally considered 
quite as beautiful as Aunt Apphia. Indeed, I 
had all my life heard Aunt Jerry called the 
handsomest girl in town, though if strict 
beauty were in question, it might have been 
hard to settle the matter between them. To 
my mind, though Aunt Jerry might be more 
brilliant. Aunt Apphia was far and away the 
lovelier — and yet I admired my Aunt Jerry 
with all my heart. Her hair was blue-black 
and very glossy. A gentleman, so a family 
tradition ran, had once said to her that he 
should think she would never need a candle 
in the dark if she would only let loose her 
shining locks. I had often admired Aunt' 
Jerry’s thatch of shimmering hair, as it fell 
around her, quite to her knees, and I fully 
concurred with her admirer. I insisted upon 
39 


up the Witch Brook Road 


her trying the experiment one dark night to 
find out if she really could see by the light of 
her hair; but I never knew whether she could 
or not, for the weather was cold and clear, and 
as Aunt Jerry was brushing her hair vigor- 
ously at the time, it threw off scores of electric 
sparks, which snapped and crackled, and 
frightened me almost to death. 

Aunt Jerry had large, expressive brown 
eyes, just like grandfather^s, and her complex- 
ion was fairer than Aunt Apphia’s. She had 
a smaller nose, too — for Aunt Apphia’s rather 
remarkable executive ability was indicated by 
a straight and commanding nose — which she 
considered a disfigurement, though it was 
really very becoming. 

Aunt Jerry was the gayest and wittiest mem- 
ber of the family, but she was also the one 
most quickly affected to tears, and during our 
adventure by the brookside she had been the 
quietest one of the party, wiping her beautiful 
eyes and blowing her pretty little nose almost 
constantly, while Aunt Leah, who had more 
curiosity, and Cousin Calista, who loved an 
adventure, especially if there were young men 
in it, had done most of the talking. 

I hope they will come to-morrow — or the 
40 


A Heroine 


next day,” sighed Cousin Calista again, after 
a moment of meditation, presumably upon the 
graces of our new friends. 

Well, they won’t,” declared Aunt J erry 
with conviction. They are too polite. They 
had on working clothes, but I never saw more 
perfect manners in my life.” 

Aunt Jerry was rather conventional in her 
ideas of propriety. She read Morris & Willis’s 

Home J ournal every week of her life, and 
was considered in the family an authority 
upon social matters. 

Yes, aren’t they polite ! ” chimed in Aunt 
Leah. “ I never saw anything like it — cer- 
tainly not in Birchmont.” 

Cousin Calista gave a light but not ill- 
natured laugh. She was never ill-natured with 
Aunt Leah. I’ll tell Elihu Trimble about 
that,” she said. 

Elihu Trimble was at this time a senior in 
Williams College and Aunt Leah’s devoted 
knight. It was taken for granted in the family 
that, just as soon as he was through with his 
education and could get established in life, 
they would be married. Grandfather was ex- 
pecting, I knew, to take charge of Elihu’s law 
studies, and to admit him into partnership in 

41 


up the Witch Brook Road 


his law business; and as Elihu was a promis- 
ing, and especially a thrifty youth, we all 
had great hopes of the result. I heard grand- 
mother say one day : “ Elihu will collect all 
those bills that have been running so long. 
Your father would never ask a man for a cent, 
no matter how much that man owed him, if 
it should happen to be reported that he was 
hard up; but Elihu, I hope, will have more 
sense of what is due to his own family.” 

“ Indeed, he will,” Aunt Leah had said. 

Elihu will do his duty to father and me be- 
fore he takes care of the rest of the world. 
Father does just the other way.” 

Both Aunt Leah and Elihu were very near- 
sighted. In those days people did not v/ear 
eyeglasses so universally as they do now ; and 
among my earliest recollections are those of 
seeing Aunt Leah and her beloved Elihu bend- 
ing together over some book which they were 
reading, with their heads almost knocking to- 
gether. His hair was rough and dark, and 
hers was smooth and pale brown, and the sight 
was funny. 

Now there was a spice of honest wrath in 
Aunt Leah’s tone as she responded to Cousin 
Calista’s raillery : “ Elihu Trimble is all 

42 


A Heroine 


right; but you know as well as I do that he 
is a country boy, and he is shy. I don’t doubt 
that he is worth a dozen of these palavering 
city fellows, but, all the same, they make a 
good appearance.” 

“ Don’t you imagine for a moment,” inter- 
posed Aunt Apphia, with some feeling, that 
one can’t have a good appearance and real 
worth, too. I believe that these young men are 
as good inside as they are outside. Certainly 
they were models in their treatment of Bar- 
bara and me. I never saw anything more ten- 
der than the way in which Mr. Perrine lifted 
Barbara into the wagon when we came away.” 

Perhaps you might if you could have seen 
Mr. Holly lift you up,” laughed Cousin Ca- 
lista, a trifle disagreeably. Aunt Jerry’s 
proud black head tossed, but Aunt Apphia 
hastened to say, pretending not to understand : 
“ Oh, I don’t mean that one of them isn’t just 
as gentlemanly as the other. There is no use 
in passing judgment on them, anyway, until 
we know them better.” 

Suddenly Mr. Beals broke into the conversa- 
tion. 

“ I’ve ben a-thinkin’,” he remarked suc- 
cinctly, ever sence we begun talkin’ ’em over 
43 


up the Witch Brook Road 


— an’ it’s sorter come to me that last year I 
heard sunthin’ or yuther about Jed Sears 
findin’ gold on his place up Witch Brook road 
there — and then, awhile afterwards, there was 
talk about some Boston fellers buyin’ a part 
of his pasture an’ cornin’ up to open a mine 
there — or sunthin’. Mebbe these is them.” 

“Gold!” sniffed Aunt Jerry. “Why, old 
Jed Sears is a sort of simpleton, isn’t he? ” 

“ He ain’t real sensible,” admitted Jonas 
Beals cautiously. “ But then he ain’t what 
you’d call right down silly. Folks didn’t reely 
think he knew what he was talkin’ about when 
he said he’d found gold on his place — for lots 
of us say things — an’ think things. Lord ! I 
sh’d say we do. But mebbe he has found gold, 
an’ these fellers is a-minin’ of it. I don’t 
know.” 

“ I think it is very likely that he has, and 
these young men look to me as though they 
knew what they were about. They have prob- 
ably bought Jed Sears’s farm, and opened a 
mine there, and I shouldn’t be surprised if 
they should grow very rich,” commented Aunt 
Leah, who was of a romantic and visionary 
turn of mind. This peculiarity was ascribed 
by the rest of the family to the fact that she 

44 


A Heroine 


had always had a lover. I remember hearing 
grandfather say with some distrust, Elihu 
isn’t so much out of the way — but I hate this 
eyerlasting courting for a girl. It has gone 
on now, year in and year out, ever since he and 
Leah were children, and I believe it makes 
Leah sentimental.” 

When my Aunt Leah uttered these dreamy, 
prophetic words regarding the brilliant pros- 
pects of the supposed young miners. Cousin 
Calista laughed again. If that isn’t just like 
you, Leah, dear ! ” she said, and Aunt Jerry 
chimed in with, Now, don’t go and make 
Elihu jealous. He will feel as though he 
would have to cast about and open a gold mine, 
too.” 

^‘Nonsense!” cried Cousin Calista. Stop 
teasing the child, Jerry.” 

I don’t care half so much about gold and 
gold mines as you do, Jerusha Wells,” retorted 
Aunt Leah, resentfully. 

W’^hile these lively discussions were in prog- 
ress, I lay peacefully on a horse-blanket on the 
wagon floor, pressed close against Aunt Ap- 
phia, and holding her hand tight in mine. I 
appreciated fully that wild ride of hers on the 
bare back of vicious old Jack, and all of those 

45 


up the Witch Brook Road 


jarring, dangerous falls. I understood that 
she had risked her life for me, and my heart 
overflowed with love and adoration for her. 
Then everything had come out so well, on the 
whole, that I shared in the general exhilara- 
tion at finding these interesting, mysterious 
new friends. Even my soreness and aching 
bones did not hurt me so much because of this 
pleasant excitement. I stroked the soft, fine 
cloth of Mr. Holly’s coat and experienced in 
so doing a delightful sense of nearness to that 
elegant youth. 

It was now well along into the twilight, and 
we began to feel tired and hungry. Cousin 
Calista yawned openly, and we were all yield- 
ing to a natural sleepiness, when Aunt Leah, 
who had the very worst eyesight of us all, 
cried shrilly, “ There is Elihu ! And, oh, 
mercy ! How he is riding ! ” 

Elihu had been at home from college for sev- 
eral days now, helping his father on the farm, 
but he was anxious to get back to Williams- 
town, and we knew that he would begrudge 
anything which took him away from his work. 

Oh, I wonder what they have heard ! ” 
gasped Aunt Jerry. Isn’t it lucky the news 
46 


A Heroine 


reached them so late ! Probably it was almost 
dark before they heard anything.” 

Elihu was by this time close upon us. His 
hat was on the back of his head. His smooth- 
shaven, dark face was colorless, and well 
thrust forward, and he was squinting his eyes 
in the effort to see. 


47 



Ill 

A LOVER 


One must have the wit 
From such a sharp and waspish word as ‘ 
To pluck the sting/* 


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H, 1 



CHAPTER III 


A Lover 

are all here! Thank the Lord!” 

I he cried, as he pulled off his hat 
and leaned over into the wagon in 
order to get a better view of us. And as sure 
as I live, there’s Tansy. Why, it’s all over 
town that Barbara is nearly killed — hadn’t a 
whole bone in her body, I heard — and that 
Affie is all broken up, too. The men at the 
store had it that Tansy had just stood and 
trampled on her — and there was something 
about Mr. Beals’s old J ack — and they say that 
all of you are more or less hurt. For heaven’s 
sake, how bad is it? ” 

His black eyes rested on Aunt Leah, with 
an expression of anguished solicitude, during 
the whole of this explosive speech. Even 
phlegmatic old Jonas Beals chuckled to see it. 

Lord ! th’ain’t nothin’ the matter with 
her” he drawled emphatically. She ain’t the 
primy donny of this comp’ny. Miss Affie yan- 
der — she done the hoop-jumpin’ an’ the reg’lar 
circus business to-day. Lord! I guess she 

51 


XJp the Witch Brook Road 


did. I can see her in my mind now, climbin’ 
up on old Jack, an’ then gittin’ throwed off 
’s fast ’s she clum up. Darn him! I’ve seen 
him. Lord ! I guess I have. I do’ know how 
in thunder she stood it, little trembly thing 
like her ; beats all what a sight o’ spunk there 
is in some o’ them little critters ! ” 

He had turned, and was regarding Aunt Ap- 
phia with his seamed and rugged features 
shaking in a perfect whirlwind of affectionate 
admiration. I snuggled up to her more closely 
than ever, and passed my arms quite around 
her soft waist. 

So that’s it, is it? ” said Elihu, impatient 
to hear more of the facts in the case. “ Well, 
you seem to have come out of it pretty fairly, 
Aflie. And how are you, Barbara? ” 

We assured him that we were likely to be 
all right in a day or two. He saw that, though 
he was in a fever to learn all about everything, 
and we were equally in a fever to tell him, 
there was no use in trying to talk just then, 
for we were still two or three miles from home, 
and it was growing late. He finally contented 
himself with riding along beside us, and get- 
ting fragmentary replies to the questions 
which, from time to time, he shouted out to us. 

52 


A Lover 


Soon we began to meet other neighbors and 
friends. Several of these turned and rode 
along behind us, having come forth on purpose, 
as they said, to see if they could be of any 
service in the dire calamity which was re- 
ported to have overtaken us — and which really 
had — only we were now in such high spirits 
that it was hard to make any one believe the 
horrors through which we had actually passed. 
It seemed to me as though they were all more 
curious than benevolent; but I am told that 
motives are so mixed in most of us that it is 
hard to decide why we really do anything. 

Grandfather Wells had been for many years 
a deacon in the church, and, like most devout 
families in those days, we held family worship 
both morning and evening. When he offered 
prayer at such times, he stood with his hands 
on the back of a chair, tipped up, wrong side 
before, in front of him. He seldom omitted a 
petition that we might come into the divine 
presence with our hands on our mouths and 
our mouths in the dust. On the night after 
the runaway he uttered this dismal extreme of 
humility with more unction than ever, repeat- 
ing over and over also that, as the bulrushes 
by the river’s brink, so were we tossed by wind 

53 


up the Witch Brook Road 


and wave, and unless an Almighty arm should 
be stretched to save us, we should all miser- 
ably perish. Then I thought of the handsome 
young men whose outstretched arms had 
stopped Tansy in her wild flight, as I had al- 
ready related to several spell-bound groups 
since our return. It was not strange that 
images mingled in my mind, and that in my 
dreams that night I beheld the two young men 
who had saved my life, bewilderingly apotheo- 
sized and wearing golden crowns, which 
seemed to me to be made from their own limit- 
less gold mines. 

The doctor had come before we had finished 
our supper. He had examined both Aunt Ap- 
phia and me minutely, and had decided that, 
though we were much shaken and nervously 
shocked, we had no broken bones, and prob- 
ably no internal injuries, and were likely to 
be well within a few days. Then he bound us 
up in soft bandages and sweet-smelling un- 
guents, and we were given great bowls of cat- 
nip tea, and put to bed. The next morning we 
were decidedly better. 

On the evening of the fourth day after the 
runaway, Silas Doty came to see Aunt Apphia. 
It was apparently an unimportant visit, but it 
54 


A Lover 


assumed later an aspect of vital signifi- 
cance. 

Silas Doty was the son of a farmer who lived 
two or three miles outside of the village. He 
was young, but enormously tall and large. I 
can remember him as far back as I can remem- 
ber anything, because he was always coming 
to our house to borrow books from grand- 
father’s library, which was by far the largest 
one in town. He would take even very thick 
volumes and then bring them back in an in- 
credibly short time, with the report that he 
had read every word in them. Grandfather 
and Aunt Apphia sometimes undertook to 
‘‘examine” Silas after these literary feats, 
and in justice to him it must be said that 
they never caught him in any deceit in the 
matter. 

He was called close-mouthed and secretive, 
and I never heard him talk with any one ex- 
cept in monosyllables, unless he was alone 
with Aunt Apphia. Then his rather sullen 
and ugly countenance took on an almost pleas- 
ing expression, and he showed that he could 
talk fluently, though his extensive reading had 
little effect upon his native dialect. Aunt Ap- 
phia was as inveterate a reader as he was. 

55 


up the Witch Brook Road 


Often I have heard grandfather tell some 
visitor privately, My daughter Apphia has 
read, I believe, every book in my library, except 
the law books — and, on my soul, I wouldn’t 
wonder if the jade had read half of those — a 
remarkable mind, sir — if she is my daughter. 
It is a compensation, perhaps, for the loss of 
my sons.” 

Poor grandfather could never become quite 
reconciled to the death of those three fine boys. 

I remember that it was a chilly evening. 
Grandfather was sitting in his study, which 
we called the east room,” and Aunt Apphia 
and I were in the parlor across the hall — the 
“ west room.” Fires were blazing in the old- 
fashioned fireplaces in both apartments. 
Grandmother, as usually in the evening, sat 
knitting close beside grandfather, who was 
reading aloud to her. 

Aunt Apphia was lounging in a low rock- 
ing-chair near the fire, while I lay on the horse- 
hair sofa, well blanketed and pillowed, beside 
her. She had been reading aloud to me, but 
she had accused me of growing sleepy, and 
had stopped; while I was indeed dozing on 
my comfortable couch. The rest of the family 
had gone to a party, and Aunt Apphia would 
56 


A Lover 


have accompanied them but for the fact that 
she was not yet recovered from her lameness 
and bruises. 

Silas had shut the door rather hard when 
he came in, and that had partially awakened 
me. Then he had begun to talk in his usual 
voice and without excitement, and I had 
drowsed off again slowly. He had been read- 
ing a novel by one of the Bronte sisters (as 
Aunt Apphia has since told me.) Their re- 
markable productions were then fresh, and 
both Aunt Apphia and Silas were greatly in- 
terested in them. For awhile they said nothing 
which especially attracted my attention. Then 
I heard Silas remark, in a tone of so much 
feeling that it roused me, You see. Miss Affie, 
his love-affairs didn’t go right. They say that 
spoils a man for always.” 

^‘Nonsense!” Aunt Apphia commented 
laughingly. A man is foolish to mind any- 
thing like that so much. He ought to have 
more strength of character.” 

I know it will spoil my life,” went on Silas 
intensely, ^‘if somebody that I love doesn’t 
love me.” 

“Why, Silas,” said Aunt Apphia inno- 
cently, but somewhat startled by his impetu- 
57 


up the Witch Brook Road 


osity, I didn’t know that you were in love 
with anybody. I thought you were rather 
noted for not going with the girls. I never 
even saw you taking anybody out to eat sugar 
at the sugar-parties this spring.” 

No,” growled Silas, still intense, you 
didn’t.” 

Well,” laughed Aunt Apphia, “ you are 
not like other boys, Silas, so I suppose you 
will take your love-affairs in your own way, 
and not like other people. But let me give 
you some good advice. I have often heard my 
mother say jokingly — ^you know my mother 
is a very wise woman, Silas — that it is a good 
plan in such matters to pick out somebody 
that you can love, but that it is foolish to 
really fall in love with her — or him — until 
you are sure of her— -or him! Better wait 
until you are fairly married, she says, to 
fall deeply in love. If that were always 
done, there wouldn’t be any of these terrible 
cases of ^ disappointment ’ that we are always 
hearing about. Don’t you think that m good 
advice? ” 

Aunt Apphia looked roguishly at Silas, evi- 
dently trying to conceal the fact, which seemed 
patent to me, that she was rather bored at the 

58 


A Lover 


thought of having to listen to a statement of 
his love-troubles. 

But what if you couldn^t help it? ” ar- 
gued Silas, with a thickening voice. What 
if it took you like a great wind that blows you 
right olf your feet? Or like a great rock that 
comes tumbling down on your head — and you 
can^t help it? ” 

“ Silas, Silas ! scoffed Aunt Apphia. 

You have been reading too many novels. 
Now here is the ^ History of the Westminster 
Assembly.’ Let me recommend that you pe- 
ruse that in order to get your mind off from 
these inflammatory themes. Why, you aren’t 
more than eighteen, are you? ” 

“ I was nineteen last January,” announced 
Silas proudly, but sulkily; “and my father 
says there isn’t a man in town can cut a swath 
closer or plough a furrow straighter than I 
can. He’s givin’ me my time, and I’m goin’ 
to work Theron Bixby’s farm on shares this 
summer. I’ve begun already.” 

“ Why, Silas ! ” said Aunt Apphia, in a tone 
of interested condescension, which impressed 
with its quality even me, as I lay counterfeit- 
ing sleep on the sofa, and which must have 
driven Silas almost crazy; “you are really 
59 


TJp the Witch Brook Road 


getting to be a man — and I hadn’t realized 
it in the least. I congratulate you — very 
warmly. And don’t worry about your love- 
affairs. Any girl in town will be glad to have 
you wait on her. Of course she will. You 
can refer her to me.” Aunt Apphia laughed 
lightly. ‘‘ I think I know you pretty well, 
Silas, and I can certainly tell her all about 
the books that you have read. Just think 
how many long talks we have had! Why, 
there is scarcely a subject among all those 
which are treated in my father’s library that 
we haven’t talked to tatters, as people say.” 

There was a moment’s silence — and then 
Silas burst forth, in a muffled voice, but with 
more passion in it than I have ever heard in 
the voice of any other human being, into an 
extraordinary appeal. I have never read or 
heard since a declaration of love without 
thinking of Silas’s — and yet I know of none 
that compares with it in vigor and persua- 
siveness, though I cannot give an adequate 
description of it. 

‘^Know me. Miss Affie! You don’t know 
me any more’n as if you was a baby. Why 
— it’s you! Don’t you see — ^it’s you! I’ve 
been lovin’ you all these years — and you don’t 
6o 


A Lover 


know how I felt when that Lyman Baker was 
around you so — and when he died, I used to go 
out in the woods and just holler and say, 

‘ Thank the Lord ! Thank the Lord ! ’ over an^ 
over an^ over — and lately I’ve loved you so — 
it seemed to sorter hurt — in here — an’ I 
couldn’t wait to get back to you — that’s why 
I hurried and read the books through so quick. 
Why, I sat up nights when they thought I 
was abed, an’ then all day I couldn’t wait to 
get here, but I worked hard on the farm, be- 
cause I knew you would like that, and I’d got 
to get a farm of my own. But when I got here 
I didn’t dare to say anything, and then the 
horse ran away, and now I can’t bear to see 
you so sick and lame — an’ I know you think 
I ain’t anything but a baby — ^but I am — and 
I want you — and there ain’t much difference 
in our ages. Mother says I am old for my 
age — and you seem to me ever so much younger 
than Miss Leah. You always did— and you 
seem younger than me — and it’ll kill me. Miss 
Affie — it will — if you can’t^ — ” 

The boy broke down and blubbered outright, 
hiding his face in his big red hands. I was 
frightened almost out of my senses by this 
tempestuous outbreak, but I only peeped 

6i 


up the Witch Brook Road 


through my eyelashes and lay perfectly rigid. 
Aunt Apphia had thrown herself back in her 
chair, limp and helpless. She was almost 
dumbfounded. 

“ Why, Silas, Silas ! ” she began at last in 
a distressed voice. 

“ Oh, don^t say anything ! he began again, 
mopping his face with a great green cotton 
handkerchief — a stark, stained face, in which 
his black eyes burned like coals of black fire. 
“ I can see now that it sounds to you as if I 
was out of my head. It didn’t seem so when I 
was thinking about it at home. I’ve been over 
and over with it in my mind — what I would 
say, and then what you would say — and it 
seemed as if you might — it did seem so^ — when 
I had the Bixby farm to work on shares — and 
all — don’t ! — don’t ! ” — as she began to speak 
again. “ I can see that you don’t think about 
it as I do — ^but I want to have you hear what 
I’m going to say — and maybe sometime — don’t 
you think that sometime — 

Oh, no, Silas ! ” cried Aunt Apphia, with 
a certain sharp gentleness which made him 
start. Never, never ! ” 

Oh, yes, sometime — maybe sometime,” 
pleaded Silas, in a tone which might have 
62 


A Lover 


softened the rocks in the river, — but, any- 
how — I’m going to love you. Miss Affie — I’m 
going to love you always — for I never can stop 
— and maybe you will think different after 
awhile — they do sometimes — you know — and 
I shall always be the same. I know there’s 
been ever so many after you — but I never was 
afraid of any of ’em, except Lyman Baker — 
and when I found you wasn’t a-goin’ to have 
him — and he went off and died — why, then I 
thought maybe — oh, don’t say anything — 
don’t — I couldn’t bear it. Miss Affie — but I 
shall always keep on lovin’ you — oh, better 
than anybody ever loved anybody else — and I 
shall always be doin’ things for you — and you 
must let me — and then in a year or two — or 
ten years or so — ” 

He choked up entirely — bounced out of his 
chair with such force that it fell backward 
with a bang — tossed his great arms up to the 
ceiling in a gesture of supreme despair, and 
then stooped over Aunt Apphia, seized her 
madly in a last stifling embrace, stammered 
out between convulsive sobs, Oh, I do love 
you so!” — then laid her back softly in her 
chair, and rushed out into the night. He 
caught up his hat as he went, but he forgot 

63 


TJp the Witch Brook Road 


to get a new book, and even forgot to leave the 
one which he had brought back with him. 
There was but a single thought in his soul. 

I lay there, stiff and frightened and uncom- 
fortable, for what seemed to me a half-hour 
or more, though it was probably but a few 
moments, after he had left. I would not for 
worlds have had anybody know that I had 
heard Silas’s interview — most of all. Aunt Ap- 
phia. She sat still in her chair, wringing her 
hands from time to time and crying softly. 
Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! ” I wondered if I 
should ever be in such distress to hear a young 
man speak such adoring words. It seemed to 
me that I should rather like it — not taking in 
the full extent of poor Silas’s suffering. Then 
I thought of the elegant Mr. George Holly, 
and contrasted him with shambling, awkward 
Silas. I wondered if Aunt Apphia would act 
so miserable if Mr. Holly should talk so to her. 

Presently, to my unspeakable relief, grand- 
father came in. 

What was the matter with Silas? ” he de- 
manded abruptly. “ Was that he who slammed 
the door so just now? ” 

“Ye — es,” stammered Aunt Apphia 

guiltily. 


64 


A Lover 


What was the trouble? ” asked grand- 
father, instinctively taking her hand and feel- 
ing of her pulse. 

He has been getting excited over the books 
he has been reading,” faltered Aunt Apphia. 

“ H^m — he has, has he? Well, he can stop 
slamming our doors so — or else there will be 
something to pay. He nearly gave your mother 
a fit — and I should say that he had nearly 
given you one, too. Why, Affie, you are 
shaking all over. I^m afraid you got hurt 
worse than Dr. Bates thought. Here, you 
take Barbara and go to bed. Shannah will 
come in and cover the fire.” 

So we limped off to bed, but I could not go 
to sleep again, for Aunt Apphia tossed and 
moaned far into the night. Indeed, I was so 
much stirred that I could not have slept, even 
if she had lain perfectly still. I heard my 
grandfather go about the house, locking the 
doors. Later, my other aunts and Cousin 
Calista came in rather noisily. They went 
out into the dining-room, and a faint rattling 
of dishes followed. I knew that they were 
serving their escorts with cake and cider, 
and I tried to make out from the sound of 
their voices who those young men might be. 

65 


XJp the Witch Brook Road 


Elihu was there, as I could hear, but I went to 
sleep without deciding who the others were, 
and the exciting events of the next day drove 
them quite out of my mind. 


66 


IV 

A VISIT 


“ Those are happiest family circles which are bound to- 
gether by intangible spiritual ties in the midst of care, poverty 
and hard work.” 


Lucy Larcom. 


'U 


CHAPTER IV 


A V Isit 

T hat next day was the fifth after our 
accident. It was warm and summer- 
like, as the middle of May should be, 
and we all welcomed the fine weather, after 
the chills and damps of the earlier part of the 
month. For the last three days my aunts and 
Cousin Calista had been watching eagerly for 
the promised visit from Mr. Holly and Mr. 
Perrine. Regularly they had put on their 
prettiest gowns and their wide embroidered 
collars, right after dinner, and had looked 
toward the west, out of which these young 
Lochinvars might be expected to come, at least 
once in every fifteen minutes, until the hour 
grew so late that hope had to be given up for 
that day. Aunt Jerry and Aunt Leah had 
puffed their soft, fine, but very straight hair 
more smoothly than ever over their ears, while 
Aunt Apphia and Cousin Calista had paid 
unusual attention to their ringlets. 

In the afternoons we almost always sat in 

69 


up the Witch Brook Road 


the same seats, respectively, and did the same 
things. The big, square, east room, grand- 
father's study, was our sitting-room then, for 
he seldom sat at his desk except in the morn- 
ings and evenings. His large writing-table, 
covered with a crimson cloth, stood between 
the two front windows, which looked toward 
the beautiful north woods on the pasture hill, 
a quarter of a mile or more across the road 
and the little brook beyond. This brook 
curved near by, and there was a bridge over it, 
a few rods to the westward of us. 

Aunt Jerry always sat at the west end of 
the table and Cousin Calista at the east end, 
while Aunt Apphia’s seat was at a third win- 
dow on the east side of the room, and grand- 
mother and Aunt Leah were in front of the 
table. I was always perched in my own small 
chair, as close to Aunt Apphia as I could pos- 
sibly get. 

On this especial afternoon Aunt Jerry and 
Cousin Calista were both of them sewing, with 
their work in the mouths of two silver sewing- 
birds, which were screwed (prudently, over 
paper) fast to the table. Cousin Calista was 
hemming a ruffle for her new dimity gown. 
This gown was going to be very elaborate, and 
70 


A Visit 


Cousin Calista scarcely spoke during the after- 
noons nowadays, she was so much absorbed 
in it. I laughed in my soul a scornful laugh 
to see her. She felt, it seemed to me, that with 
her fine clothes, which were rather costly and 
much be-furbelowed (they were mostly copied 
exactly from models in Godey’s Lady’s 
Book ” ) , she could outshine my more plainly 
dressed aunts — as though anybody would look 
at her when Aunt Apphia or Aunt Jerry was 
by! It was true that Aunt Jerry was of a 
sarcastic turn and loved to make fun of me, 
and of everything else, when the fit was on 
her; but she was never subtle and sly, as 
Cousin Calista often was — and I loved my 
Aunt Jerry dearly. On the other hand, though 
the subject was seldom mentioned in my grand- 
father’s family (finance, unless of a national 
character, being considered there as something 
quite vulgar) — I knew, from what Shannah 
O’ Flaherty, the cook, had told me, that Cousin 
Calista was rich. She was the daughter of 
my grandfather’s youngest and dearest sister, 
who had married a Boston merchant. Both 
of them had died, and for ten years or more 
Cousin Calista had been a member of my 
grandfather’s family, and treated exactly as if 

71 


up the Witch Brook Road 


she had been his daughter. I used to fancy 
that Cousin Calista felt above the rest of us 
on account of her wealth, and that the reason 
why she snubbed Aunt Apphia was because of 
this superior feeling — but that may not have 
been so, for she was always loving and kind to 
grandfather and grandmother, and extrava- 
gantly fond of Aunt Leah, with whom she 
roomed. She did not dare to snub Aunt Jerry, 
who was a perfect Tartar, on occasion, — but 
she was undeniably unkind, and even ugly, to 
Aunt Apphia. I used to wonder why Aunt 
Apphia did not turn upon her and give her 
back as good as she sent ” — but later I under- 
stood. 

Grandmother was always mending or knit- 
ting. She was fair, fastidious in matters 
of dress, quiet and dignified in manner, and 
with blue eyes which had been near-sighted all 
her life; but she had never worn spectacles, 
and she could see better then than in her youth 
— though we are now told that such things do 
not happen. However that may be, my grand- 
mother, neither at this time, when she must 
have been about sixty years of age, nor during 
the twenty years longer that she lived, wore 
any sort of spectacles, and yet her eyesight 
72 


A Visit 


was perfect about the house, and she could see 
nearly as far out-of-doors as the rest of us 
could. 

Aunt Leah was not as fond of sewing as of 
reading. Therefore, as she had a good voice 
and was an excellent reader, she usually read 
aloud to us in the afternoons. Just now we 
were in the midst of one of Scott’s most ex- 
citing novels, which held our attention fairly 
well, in spite of the delectable expectations 
which drew our eyes so often toward the win- 
dows. 

Aunt Apphia was also hemming ruffles, but 
she had small opinion of silver sewing-birds, 
and preferred to pin her ruffle to her white 
sewing-apron. She was helping Cousin Ca- 
lista, which she often did. Cousin Calista had 
hinted to Aunt Jerry that it would be accept- 
able if she, too, should assist in some of the 
details of that wonderful dimity gown ; but it 
would have to be a dull day when Aunt Jerry 
hemmed ruffles for Cousin Calista. They were 
outwardly friendly enough, but it was a condi- 
tion of armed neutrality rather than of affec- 
tionate sisterhood. 

I remember that I was over-and-overing,” 
as usual, on my patchwork. My aunts had all 

73 


JJp the Witch Brook Road 


been compelled to work samplers, but that cus- 
tom had died out by this time, and I never 
worked a sampler. Aunt Apphia cut and 
basted my pieces and matched my colors, and 
encouraged me from time to time when my 
thread knotted or broke, or I made some bad 
mistake. 

From my seat by her side at the east win- 
dow I could look into the parlor across the 
hall, on the western side of our big, plain old 
colonial house. Every speck of dust had been 
removed from it, and the wall paper (covered 
with a queer old pattern, in which a blind- 
folded little girl was driving a little boy, with 
long scarfs for reins) had been polished, as 
far up as Aunt Jerry’s strong arms could 
reach. All of the wonderful shells and lacquer 
boxes and gift annuals and daguerreotypes, 
with which the cabinet and mantelpiece there 
were furnished forth, had been arranged to 
the best possible advantage, and Cousin Ca- 
lista’s harp, a very handsome one, with a gilded 
frame, occupied a prominent position. These 
fine young men should see when they came — 
if they ever did come — that the Wells family 
was not entirely destitute of culture. 

The great clock in the dining-room had just 
74 


A Visit 


struck three, and we had been sitting in the 
east room for nearly an hour, when there was 
a sudden sound of pounding feet on the bridge. 
Aunt Leah stopped in the middle of a sentence, 
Aunt Jerry uttered a stifled scream of delight, 
and I boldly stood up and looked out of the 
window. Sure enough, there they were — the 
heroes of the runaway — one on a beautiful 
pure white horse, and the other on a bay one. 
Their picturesque, workaday garments were 
replaced by riding suits of the latest style. 
They threw themselves gracefully from their 
saddles, hitched their steeds, one to the post 
and one to the fence, and without a trace of 
embarrassment came walking up the short, 
stone-paved, box-bordered path to the front 
door. George Holly, who was ahead, must 
have lifted the brass knocker. 

I am the one who should let them in,” said 
Aunt Apphia. 

Let Shannah go,” suggested Cousin Calista 
haughtily. 

Take them into the parlor,” gasped Aunt 
Leah. 

I am the one who should receive them,” 
repeated Aunt Apphia, with dignity, and of 
course I should take them into the parlor.” 

75 


up the Witch Brook Road 


These hurried remarks were interchanged 
while the young men were tying their horses, 
and by the time the clang of the knocker was 
heard, Aunt Apphia was at the east-room 
door, with me at her heels. I heard Cousin 
Calista mutter, as we stood there, Cherub, as 
usual, in attendance.’’ 

Nothing could exceed the grace with which 
Aunt Apphia grasped Mr. Holly’s hand and 
welcomed him, laughing, and yet showing emo- 
tion, as she said, Hail, my kind benefactor ! ” 
And this is really you again ! ” he cried, 
stopping a moment to gaze at her, though 
his friend was pressing up impatiently be- 
hind him. “ And how well you look ! You 
seem to be none the worse for it all — but it 
was a pretty reckless thing. I hope you won’t 
try it again soon.” 

Oh, I have had the best of care,” she smiled 
back to him, as she motioned him into the 
parlor and shook hands with Richard Per- 
rine. My father and mother have been eager 
to see you both aud thank you. Oh, we are all 
very glad to see you.” 

‘‘ I think she is saying too much,” I heard 
Cousin Calista confide to Aunt Jerry, as the 
young men and Aunt Apphia disappeared into 
76 


A Visit 


the parlor. Then I heard that spirited maiden 
rejoin tartly, “ I don’t see what less she could 
possibly say to men who have just saved her 
life.” 

Then Aunt Leah whispered in an agitated 
voice, Shall we all go in together? We 
hadn’t better all go in together, had we? ” 
And my grandmother said, in a stately and 
sophisticated manner, “ I will go in first, of 
course — then you, Calista — and in about ten 
minutes, Jerusha, you and Leah will come. 
In the meantime, Leah, go down into the field 
and call your father. He must put on his 
long coat — mind, his long coat — tell him.” 

Then grandmother sailed forward into the 
plain little entry with such a grand air that 
she almost ran over poor me in the corner, 
waiting uncertainly as to what I ought to do. 
As it was, I went for my own small chair, 
and followed on after her, shaking hands with 
the young men, and then dragging my chair 
to Aunt Apphia’s side. There I possessed 
myself of her hand, and clung to it tightly, 
while I listened with my usual interest to all 
that was said. 

At first there was a simple outpouring of 
thanks on the part of my grandmother, and 

77 


up the Witch Brook Road 


a strong disclaimer of any special merit on 
the part of the young men. It was not long 
before Cousin Calista was the center of the 
conversation. She had taken her place ex- 
actly between the two young men. After a 
little, they had asked her to play to them on 
her harp, and she was just about to do so 
when my grandfather entered (in his long 
coat). Aunt Jerry and Aunt Leah were close 
behind him. 

Then the talk became general again. I 
remember feeling very proud of my grand- 
father, who was a gentleman through and 
through, though he was only a country 
lawyer, a village “ square,” who never could 
have made a living out of his profession if 
he had not eked out his earnings from that 
source with the produce of his farm. His 
words of gratitude were few, but they rang 
true, and the young men received them with 
the greatest respect. George Holly flushed 
up to his handsome temples when grandfather 
took his hand, and, turning to me, said slowly, 
“ Barbara here, is our treasure. Every one of 
those yellow curls on her little head is i^ure 
gold to us. It goes to my heart like a knife 
to think of what might have become of her if 


A Visit 


it had not been for you. As for what you 
both did for our Apphia his voice broke, 
and for an instant he could not go on. Well — 
I cannot speak of it,” he said at last. 

Only I want you to know that our hearts 
are full of gratitude to you both. Remember 
that my house is open to you as long as I live. 
Gentlemen, I thank you from the bottom of 
my soul.” 

“We would have done a hundred times 
as much, sir,” said Richard Perrine, evidently 
anxious to turn the conversation into a lighter 
channel, “ to become acquainted with such a 
bevy of charming girls.” 

They had all taken their seats now, in 
obedience to a wave of my grandfather’s hand. 

“ Indeed we would,” affirmed George Holly, 
looking fixedly into my Aunt Apphia’s blush- 
ing face. 

At this point Shannah appeared, bearing 
a tray of tea and cakes, and soon they all 
began to talk together very gaily. 

“ We have hitherto accepted the belief that 
we must go to the city to enjoy the society 
of gentlemen,” remarked Cousin Calista 
coyly. “ We never expect to meet them up 
here — to any extent,” she added, hurriedly, 

79 


up the Witch Brook Road 


as she saw signs of indignation on Aunt Leah^s 
fair face. 

“ Indeed, we have a few fine young men 
here — several who are in college or just out 
of it,” declared Aunt Leah with emphasis. 

‘‘ Our place up in the hills is so far away 
from the village that we have had so far no 
chance to test the social resources of the com- 
munity,” said Mr. Holly politely. “ You are 
the first young ladies to whom we have spoken 
since we left Boston, ten weeks ago^ — and we 
have seen almost as few young men — or, in- 
deed, anybody else.” 

“ You are opening a mine in the town of 
Hickory? ” inquired my grandfather, stu- 
diously attempting to express a proper in- 
terest without vulgar curiosity. 

Yes,” answered George Holly. “ We are 
both of us mining engineers. My home was 
once in the South, but my friend is from 
Boston, where I now nominally reside Avith 
him. We studied together, and we have 
worked a good deal together down in the 
Alleghanies and out in the Michigan penin- 
sula.” 

Indeed ! ” said my grandfather. You 
must understand mining pretty well, then. 

8o 


A Visit 


And do you find traces of valuable minerals 
on the farm of Jed Sears? I was told that 
that was where you were at work. Excuse 
me, but you know this is a small community, 
and news travels fast, especially when there 
is such an excitement as a runaway to stir 
people up. Hickory is the next town to 
Birchmont, and what affects one usually in- 
terests the other.” 

Yes, sir — yes, sir — certainly,” replied 
George Holly courteously, but with a slight 
air of embarrassment. ‘‘We find several good 
minerals up in the rocks there — but we are 
not sure of extracting anything in large 
enough quantities to pay. We have two men 
working for us, and we have already quite 
a hole in the ground. I wish you would come 
up there and see what we are doing. If you 
would be interested, we will bring you speci- 
mens of our ore the next time that we come 
down.” 

That pleased us all, for it looked as though 
they intended to come again soon. 

“ Thank you,” returned my grandfather. 
“I am not a geologist, and I fear I could 
not say anything which would help you. 
What I learned in college about such matters 
8i 


up the Witch Brook Road 


was trifling, and my law books have taught 
me nothing in that line. But I am greatly in- 
terested in the development of our county, 
and I wish that you might dig out of Jed 
Sears’s farm gold and silver beyond the 
dreams of avarice.” 

Kichard Perrine laughed. There was a note 
of bitterness in his voice. 

It will be fool’s gold, I fear,” he said. 

“ At least, you have found warm friends,” 
interposed my grandmother cordially. Mr. 
Wells, since these young men have been able 
to ride so far to inquire after the health of 
our young people, perhaps they will not think 
it beyond their power to dine with us soon. 
Will next week Friday be a convenient day for 
you, gentlemen? We dine at one o’clock.” 

The young men looked at each other with 
a decidedly pleased expression, and Mr. Holly 
accepted her invitation for them both without 
condition. The young ladies frankly giggled 
at his eager manner. It was plain to see, and 
not surprising to those who knew the re- 
sources of the Jed Sears farm, that the pros- 
pect of a dinner party was highly gratifying 
to them. Possibly rumors had reached them 
82 


A Visit 


of the qualities of our Irish cook, Shannah. 
Certainly the fame of my grandmo therms jams, 
jellies and pickles was wide enough to have 
penetrated even to the wilds of Hickory. 

The young men stayed exactly forty-five 
minutes by the clock, finishing their call by 
a visit to the garden — a long, straight path, 
bordered by china pinks, just then budding; 
and gay with grape hyacinths in full bloom, 
moss pinks, jonquils, daffodils, snow-drops, 
and many other bright blossoms. There was 
a feeling among us all, when they took their 
leave and we heard their horses^ feet pound- 
ing again over the little bridge, that the after- 
noon had been a great success. Most of us 
remained in the parlor, looking from the win- 
dows, while grandfather went out to assist 
them in remounting. Grandmother and 
Aunt Apphia stood in the doorway, whither 
we had been majestically forbidden by grand- 
mother to follow them. But we shook our 
handkerchiefs in good-by to them at the win- 
dows, and the young men lifted their hats and 
looked very proud and handsome as they rode 
away on their fine horses. 

Then we all sat down to talk the affair 
83 


up the Witch Brook Road 


over in the east room, except grandmother, 
who went out to direct Shannah in putting 
the supper on the table. 

As we talked, grandfather sat in front of 
his table, rather nervously arranging his pa- 
pers upon it. Presently Aunt Jerry and Aunt 
Leah began to argue a point in a rather heated 
tone. 

What is that? What is that, Leah? 
said grandmother, coming in suddenly, and 
taking up her knitting, as she dropped into a 
chair beside grandfather. 

“ I was just saying,” repeated Aunt Leah 
rather crossly, “ that I think we ought to 
have asked them to stay to supper — after that 
long ride — and all.” 

But the first time they called,” began 
Aunt Jerry, the great stickler for etiquette. 

We served them with tea and cakes, and 
have invited them to dinner, Leah,” said 
grandmother in her most regal manner, “ and 
that is enough.” 

This settled the matter, and Aunt Leah sub- 
sided. 

“ A family of girls like mine,” laughed 
grandfather, with an apologetic note of se- 
riousness in his laugh, “ must not be too cor- 
84 


A Visit 


dial to young men, even when they save Bar- 
bara’s life.” 

I was sitting in my little chair, as usual, 
beside Aunt Apphia. As grandfather spoke, 
she caught me up in her arms and kissed me 
passionately. 

“ I just love them both ! ” cried Aunt Jerry 
impulsively. 

That is very well,” went on grandfather, 
in a hard, dry tone, and looking into Aunt 
Jerry’s flushed face, with an expression of 
sensitive pride. As long as you love them 
both, you are all right. But you must not 
fall in love with one of them. Kemember, 
we know nothing of either of them, except 
what we have seen. So far as we can judge, 
they belong to good families — but they may 
be already promised in marriage — ^indeed, 
they may be married, for aught we know to 
the contrary. Even if they are free, it is 
not likely that they are looking for coun- 
try-bred and portionless maidens — or even 
maidens, with portions — like our dear Calista, 
here” — ^he laughed a little into Cousin Ca- 
lista’s blonde, self-satisfled face; but he went 
on with a stern sort of determination, which 
many another similarly poor and proud father 

85 


up the Witch Brook Road 


might do well to imitate, “ so you will please 
to remember that, while you must be kind to 
these good-looking young men, and show 
proper gratitude, in a maidenly way, for what 
they have done, you must bear in mind at the 
same time that they are strangers, after all 
— and that a certain distance must be kept 
between you. Let there be no suspicion of 
coquetry in your conduct.” 

He looked hard into Aunt Jerry’s big, dark 
eyes, but Aunt Apphia, coloring with a little 
show of resentment, was the one who spoke. 

Why, father — ” she began. 

“ Oh, Apphia ! ” he exclaimed, turning upon 
her a look of ineffable tenderness — not you 
— you could not do such a thing. But these 
other girls — Jerusha and Calista here — they 
need warning. I suppose Leah is safe.” 

Aunt Leah bent lower over her embroidery, 
and gave a conscious giggle. 

But, all the same,” he went on unspar- 
ingly, I want to impress it upon your minds 
once for all — for it is a distasteful subject, 
and I shall probably never revert to it again 
— that young women in your situation cannot 
keep too careful a guard over your feelings 
where young men like these are concerned. 

86 


A Visit 


They often leave behind them a trail of un- 
happy memories, and even of broken hearts, 
when they mean to do no harm. That is all.’^ 
The family sat very still until he had ut- 
tered the last word. The good sense and the 
paternal love and pride in them impressed 
even my childish mind. Aunt Apphia looked 
off dreamily toward the hill at the north. 
Cousin Calista wore a rather disdainful air, 
partly bored and partly annoyed. Grand- 
mother knitted quietly on ; but she laid down 
her work with a slight sigh of relief when 
Shannah’s clear Irish voice proclaimed that 
supper was ready. 


87 
















V 

SHANNAH 

“You are so good that I believe you would go to heaven, 
even though there were no Sunday, and only six working days 
in the week.” 


Horace Walpole to Hannah More. 



CHAPTER V 


Shannah 

S HANNAH O'FLAHERTY was to my 
body what Aunt Apphia was to my 
soul. A great, homely, raw-boned, 
black-haired woman, but kind and faithful, 
she had lived in our family longer than I had. 
She had come to my grandmother directly 
from the ship which had brought her from the 
old country, and one of her first requests upon 
reaching the house, was, as I have often heard 
my grandmother say, for “ a hetchel to hetchel 
her hair.” She sang low, minor Irish songs 
about her work, and talked with a strong 
burr. 

Through all my early childhood she was 
my devoted nurse. In winter she used to 
put me into a big pan and slide me over the 
little ponds which were continually forming 
and freezing in the wide yard. In the sum- 
mer, she was always ready to take me down to 
the brook in the hot twilights, and sit beside a 

91 


XJp the Witch Brook Road 


certain rather deep pool there, in which I was 
allowed to splash, clad in an old calico gown. 
Sometimes, she even arrayed herself likewise 
and went in with me. If I committed any 
childish misdemeanor, in the way of unlawful 
drafts upon the pantry, it was Shannah who 
hid my sins and covered up my transgressions. 
My love for her was second only to that which 
I cherished for my Aunt Apphia. The rest 
of the family were almost as fond of her as 
I was, while her keen wit kept us all in good 
humor. 

I remember well one day when she told me 
how she decided to come to America. 

“ Thin,” she concluded, I picked up me 
accoutermints — and here I am.” 

I puzzled over the long word for days, not 
liking to ask her what it meant, and finally 
had to inquire its significance of Aunt Apphia. 

Shannah was of a rather tumultuous and 
tempestuous disposition, and when this got 
the upper hand of her, as it not infrequently 
did, she seemed to find peace only in pro- 
fanity. My grandmother, after violent ef- 
forts, had succeeded in breaking her of the 
worst of this, but she still clung to gosh,” 
“ cracky^” and I gollies.” One day, Aunt 
92 


Shannah 


Leah, who was as delicate in her sensibilities 
as in her fair, blonde person, expostulated 
with Shannah for her use of I gollies.” 

“ Indade, an^ that’s no swearin’. Miss Leah,” 
protested Shannah vehemently. There’s no 
praste would blame me for thot. An’ whin 
St. Peter is afther askin’ me what is the worst 
thing I’ll be afther sayin’, an’ I tell him, ‘ It’s 
naught worse than “ I gollies,” your riverence,’ 
he will say, ^ Get right in wid you, Shannah,’ 
an’ it’s wide he will open the gates for me. 
Oh, there’s nothin’ of the swearin’ about ^ I 
gollies,’ Miss Leah. An honest girl must 
have some word or another to expriss herself 
wid — indade, an’ she must.” 

Yes, but even if it isn’t wicked, it isn’t 
lady-like. It is vulgar, Shannah — and you 
want to be a lady.” 

Indade, an’ I don’t thot. Miss Leah,” re- 
torted Shannah unexpectedly. “ Do you 
think that I look like that much of a fool 
that I’d be thinkin’ of bein’ a lady! Sure, 
an’ I know it’s niver a lady I can be — I’m 
afther bein’ something better than a lady. Miss 
Leah ” — with an expressive nod, and lowering 
her voice mysteriously. It’s a saint thot’s 
what I want to be. Miss Leah — and it’s a saint 

93 


up the Witch Brook Road 


I^m afther expictin’ to be in the next world — 
plaze God — an^ St. Peter willin\” 

The days of the week were to Shannah 
Monda, Choosda, Wednesda, and so on. On 
very hot, cold or stormy days the weather was 
always “ fierce.” This was a much over- 
worked word with her, and we always won- 
dered just what she thought it meant. One 
day when she was feeling wretchedly ill, but 
insisted upon being around the house and do- 
ing what she could, she sank almost fainting 
into a chair, and sobbed out, Oh, Mrs. Wells 
— iPs fierce I feel the dah-y ! ” 

Long words were always attractive to Shan- 
nah, and she would remark on a stormy day, 
when she wished to be especially elegant. 
Isn’t this lamentable weather ! ” 

One day a man came to the door to sell 
some patent contrivance for which we had 
no use. Shannah did not think it worth while 
to trouble grandmother about it, and insisted 
that she knew we did not want it. The man 
urged and urged, but Shannah was firm, and, 
of course, conquered in the end. 

“ He was very dignified about it, Mrs. 
Wells,” she reported later. It is very digni- 

94 


Shannah 


fied that he was. Indade, he was downright 
sassy.” 

One of her most cherished possessions was 
a little leather locket, in which, under glass, 
was a lock of fine, dark brown hair. This 
she confided to me one day when I was very 
small, was a relic of St. Anthony, her patron 
saint. It had belonged to her brother. 

An’ many’s a scrape it got him out of — 
the harum-scarum ! ” she said devoutly. ‘‘ An’ 
whin he lay a-dyin’, a big tree havin’ fallen 
over forninst him, he gave me the relic wid 
his last breath — the poor colleen! — an’ niver 
a day is Shannah widout it, darlin’. Sure it 
would go hard wid me, swateheart, if I lost 
me relic — an’ ye must see. Miss Barbara, that 
it’s buried wid me whin me time comes, won’t 
ye? ” — which request I readily granted, and 
many years later I hung the worn and cher- 
ished relic around Shannah’s faithful neck 
after her labors were ended. 

It was her belief that this relic had been 
the means of procuring for her a small “ pin- 
sion,” a very modest sum, which she received 
quarterly from some great family in Ireland, 
on account of services which had been ren- 

95 


up the Witch Brook Road 


dered by her father. I think he had saved 
the life of the son and heir, and had asked 
upon his death that the “ pinsion ” should be 
continued to Shannah, so long as she should 
remain single. She used often to say to me 
that that was why she had never married. 

“ Me pinsion would stop, darlin’,’^ she would 
whisper, with a knowing wink. “ An^ what 
man would be afther givin^ me that same? 
Shannah’s the wise bird.” 

I did not believe that anybody had ever 
asked poor Shannah to marry him, for even 
my childish eyes, much as I loved her, could 
see that she was not of what is called the 
marrying kind ” — but I could see, also, that 
she firmly believed that, if she should set out 
with determination in pursuit of a husband, 
the relic could be depended upon to procure 
one for her. I wondered later why a tree 
should have fallen on her brother when he 
was protected by this puissant charm, but I 
never dared to ask her. 

One day a cousin from a neighboring town 
came to call upon her. Shannah showed her 
the relic, and related eloquently how her 
brother had never been without it, when the 
cousin burst forth effusively, “ An’ he was a 
96 


Shannah 


pious boy — was Dennis. An’ it’s beautiful 
that he kept his relic so ch’ice, Shannah — an’ 
whin I think of me own relic — it’s a bead 
blessed by the very hand of St. Patrick, Shan- 
nah — an’ it’s knockin’ around in me trunk that 
it is, this very dah-y — I belave on me soul that 
me bad luck is to blame to it.” 

After the cousin left, 'Shannah and I, who 
had walked together a half-mile or more down 
the road with her, to a point where she was 
to take a stage, had one of our long, confiden- 
tial talks. It was a day or two after the 
young men had called, and about four o’clock 
in the afternoon, so that Shannah was at 
leisure. I was pretty well over my bruises, 
but she insisted that we should sit awhile 
on a big rock beside the quiet road, in order 
that I might rest after the cousin had left 
us. 

Now Shannah’s relic had not much im- 
pressed me, but when I heard of the cousin’s 
also, the accumulated evidence alarmed me. 
I felt as though, having nothing of the sort 
about me, I was dangerously exposed to ill- 
fortune. 

“ Shannah,” I said, after we had sat awhile 
in silence on the rock, “ I wish I had a relic. 

97 


up the Witch Brook Road 


Then would you make me a little bag and let 
me wear it always around my neck? ” 

Sure, 1^11 ask tke praste about it the very 
next time I go to town,’’ said Shannah, kindly. 

Yes — you ought to have a relic, Barbara, 
dear — sure, you ought. Oh ” — she sighed 

presently, if only Miss Afhe had had a relic, 
it mightn’t have gone that bad with her? ” 
^‘What mightn’t, Shannah? The run- 
away?” 

“Ah, bless the dear heart! She thinks 
nothing ever happened but the runaway ! Ah, 
no, darlint — it was thot much worse than the 
runaway as the runaway was worse than you 
an’ me sittin’ comfortable here by the road- 
side. Oh, the poor heart ! ” 

Now there was nothing which delighted me 
more than to have Shannah tell me the family 
secrets, of which she knew nearly all. She 
would have died rather than reveal them to 
an outsider, but she felt that I belonged to the 
sacred circle, and she loved to make me happy 
by gratifying my curiosity. My aunts would 
have been appalled if they could have known 
the sidelights which were thrown upon their 
affairs for me by Shannah’s graphic descrip- 
tive powers. But I never betrayed that faith- 
98 


Shannah 


ful soul, and she rewarded my fidelity by tell- 
ing me as much as she dared. I can see now 
that this outlet must have been almost a ne- 
cessity for poor Shannah, who was cut off 
from more than a very occasional visit with 
her kindred, and who had almost no friends 
of her own social standing in the. neighbor- 
hood. All of the rest of the family were good 
to her, but she stood in awe of them, and when 
she felt like talking, she had to talk to me or 
nobody. 

What hurt her, Shannah? ” I demanded. 
What was it? Tell me.” 

“ Oh, it was Lyman Baker — Mr. Lyman 
Baker — Lord rest his soul. Miss Barbara! 
An^ how Miss Calista can sleep o’ nights, is 
more than I can tell. Miss Barbara — but 
she gave me her old gingham last week — 
an’ it’s not for the loikes o’ me to be afther 
blamin’ Miss Calista — but she made a la- 
mentable business with Mr. Lyman Baker — 
she did thot, oh, me! oh, me! ” 

Shannah began to rock back and forth. 

I remember Mr. Lyman Baker,” I re- 
marked refiectively. I remember when he 
died and they buried him up here in the grave- 
yard. That was when I was five years old. 

99 


LofC. 


up the Witch Brook Road 


It was on my birthday he was buried, and I 
couldn’t have any party, but you made me a 
cake.” 

Bless its heart — an’ she remembers the 
cake Shannah made for her! An’ even Miss 
Calista was afther sobbin’ the day. Oh, she 
better be sobbin’, indade she had — the spal- 
peen! Oh, ye must excuse Shannah, darlint 
— but, good as Miss Calista is to me — an’ she 
gave me a whole dollar on me last birthda.’ 
— I can’t get the better of the way she trated 
X>oor Miss Apphia thin — oh, it was lament- 
able, darlint — it was thot — an’ only Shannah 
knows it all — an’ Shannah can never tell — an’ 
mind ye kapes your own little mouth shut 
about it, swateheart — only sometimes I’m 
afther thinkin’ that Miss Affle knows it.” 

She nodded at me, darkly, shutting her 
great lips tight together. 

“ I remember that he used to come every 
day,” I began meditatively, “ and he used to 
take me in his lap — and I liked him — and 
then he didn’t come — and then he was sick a 
long time — and then he died. What made him 
die, Shannah?” 

They said it was quick consumption, 


100 


Shannah 


swateheart — but I^m thinkin’ it was consump- 
tion o’ the heart — indade I am.” 

Shannah’s brows were still knitted omi- 
nously together. 

What gave him consumption of the heart, 
Shannah? ” 

Because his heart was broken, darlint — 
thot’s what Shannah’s afther thinkin’ — an’ 
thot’s what Miss Calista knows, too — she does 
thot, an’ on his death -bed he sint for Miss 
Affie — didn’t ye be afther knowin’ thot, dar- 
lint? ” 

“No, I remember that they were all crying 
— and I cried, too — and everybody was still 
and sorry — but what was it, Shannah — what 
was it? Why did he send for Aunt Affie when 
he was dying? ” 

Shannah shook her head. 

“ Oh, it was in a mystery he was, the poor 
dear ! An’ I heard Miss Calista — an’ me 
a-lyin’ one hot night that Septimber, behint 
the snowball bush to the end of the yard, dar- 
lint — an’ a-winkin’ me eyes out, bein’ thot 
sleepy — when comes along Miss Calista and 
Mr. Lyman Baker an’ sat down beyant, an’ me 
just afther wakin’ out of me doze wid the 

lOI 


up the Witch Brook Road 


sound of their voices, an^ thot scart to stir, 
that I lay there wid the sweat drippin’ off 
me into the grass, darlint — it was thot; an’ 
so I heard ivery cruel worrud, an’ not a worrud 
could I be sayin’, I, Shannah O’ Flaherty, that 
knew it for a lie, thin, an’ iver afther — I did 
thot, darlint.” 

“ Did he say something about Aunt Afifie? ” 
I whispered, angrily. 

“ Oh, ye needn’t whisper, darlint. Sure, 
who could hear us, here on the rock wid niver 
a bush in sight? Indade, it wasn’t Mr. Ly- 
man Baker would be afther sayin’ a worrud 
against yer Aunt Affie, darlint, an’ him wor- 
shippin’ the sod she trod on, he did thot. Oh, 
no, it was Miss Calista — an’ it was the cat she 
played thot night — ^it was indade. Miss Bar- 
bara. An’ she a-tellin’ him thot Miss Affie 
was engaged to a young man in the city, an’ 
she knew it for sure, says Miss Calista to him; 
indade, she did thot. An’ niver will I forget 
it of her, for it killed him, an’ she may give 
me gingham dresses an’ dollars to me dyin’ 
day. An’ thin he gets up shorrutly — oh, a 
foine young man was Mr. Lyman Baker ! An’ 
thot’s what Miss Calista thought; indade, she 
did, Miss Barbara; an’ it was for herself she 


102 


Shannah 


wanted him. Oh, Shannah’s the wise bird! 
An’ off he walks, an’ niver again did he come 
to the Square’s house.” Shannah laughed 
grimly. Thim thot wanted to get him away 
from Miss Affie niver got him. Miss Barbara, 
d’ye mark thot? But it killed him, an’ thot’s 
sure. An’ so it has always been — whin Miss 
Affie has a beau; an’ sure ivery man thot 
sees her can’t get the better of lovin’ her, 
though it’s a brave one thot dursts to shpake 
up to her, she’s thot proud in her way, kind 
an’ lovin’ as she is, but niver does Miss Affie 
have a beau but Miss Calista is afther 
wantin’ him too, an’ niver another wan, but 
indade it’s the same wan, or none at all. An’ 
I’m thot out of conceit with Miss Calista some- 
times, thot I am. Miss Barbara, thot I’ll be 
afther shpakin’ out to her sometime whin I 
laste desire it ; for it’s cuttin’ me own nose off 
me face I would be afther doin’, for Miss Ca- 
lista is thot kind to me thot sometimes it’s 
afther cornin’ over me thot she knows I’ve 
sacrets along wid me, swateheart — sacrets thot 
she wouldn’t want told out, darlint— an’ in- 
dade I have. But we must bear wid her, sure, 
for it’s Miss Calista thot has the money, and 
ivery year she pays the Square a good round 
103 


up the Witch Brook Road 


sum, an’ what would we be afther doin’ widout 
her, darlint! an’ the Square, Lord rist his 
soul! — talkin’ his po’try to himself whin he 
rides along, an’ niver looking out for a cint 
to come in, an’ all the young ladies to buy 
laces for, and kid shoes — for it’s little enough 
they do be payin’ the tachers here, whin they 
do tache a term — an’ Miss Affie sayin’ she’ll 
be afther goin’ off to tache school in a big city, 
and earn more money, wan of these days, an’ 
scarin’ the Square out of his wits, for he’s thot 
proud thot he can’t a-bear the thought o’ thim 
beautiful young ladies a-thravelin’ off to dis- 
tant parts for to worruk for a livin’. An’ 
no more can Shannah, darlint. An’ Miss 
Affie bearin’ all that torment from Miss 
Calista, an’ the Square niver noticin’ not 
one worrud of it. Miss Barbara — Miss Affie’s 
thot still an’ good about it. An’ she’s 
thinkin’ Miss Calista’s thot fond of you, dar- 
lint, thot it’s you Miss Calista’ll be afther 
lavin’ her money to, wan o’ these days.” 

I don’t want her money ! ” I cried sav- 
agely. “ I hate her. She does plague my 
Aunt Affie. Oh, I hate her,” and I dismayed 
Shannah by beginning to cry. 

“ An’ thot’s jist what you mustn’t be afther 
104 


Shannah 


doin’, swateheart,” she scolded sternly. It’s 
niver another story Shannah will be afther 
tellin’ you, if this is the way you’ll be actin’. 
Shtop bawlin’ the minute, darlint. Indade, 
an’ you must. Sure, Shannah’ll niver tell you 
another worrud, she won’t, indade.” 

Oh, yes, you will,” I insisted, drying my 
eyes and calming myself. 

“ Thin you must be good to your Cousin 
Calista; you must, indade, for she is always 
good to you, an’ she’s aye an’ iver bepraisin’ 
your lovely curruls an’ your blue eyes an’, 
indade, it’s nobody hopes more than Shannah 
O’Flaherty that she will be afther lavin’ you 
her money — for it’s little your poor father 
left ye, swateheart — an’ whin yer weddin’ day 
cooms, you’ll be afther wantin’ a weddin’ por- 
tion — like all the rist of the gurruls — an’ it’s 
Miss Calista will be afther givin’ it to ye, 
darlint — for she loves you an’ Miss Leah — an’ 
we must hold our tongues, darlint — you an’ 
me must be afther doin’ jist thot — an’ Shan- 
nah’s the wise bird, swateheart — now be a good 
gurrul — an’ come along, for it’s supper time — 
an’ here we are, a long, long way from home.” 

“ And if Aunt Afifte had had a relic, wouldn’t 
Mr. Lyman Baker have died? ” I asked. 

105 


up the Witch Brook Road 


I belave on my soul he wouldn’t, darlint.” 

“ Did she feel very bad about it, Shannah? ” 

“ I can’t be tellin’ you as to thot, darlint,” 
answered Shannah, shaking her head. She 
used to laugh and talk wid him in thot purty 
way she has — an’ it do be me opinion that sho 
might have been makin’ ready to fall in love 
wid him — for he was a foine young man, was 
Mr. Lyman Baker — but she don’t be failin’ in 
love like some of these hoity-toities, Miss Bar- 
bara — not Miss Affie. She kapes herself thot 
ch’ice an’ close — an’ she always a-laughin’ at 
the same time — thot you can’t tell what she do 
be thinkin’; but she knows Miss Calista was 
struck afther him — for Miss Jerry was afther 
sayin’ that jist — an’ me right there in the 
kitchen wid the two of thim — an’ Miss Affie 
only laughed, an’ she says to Miss Jerry, says 
she, ‘ You’re afther thinkin’ iverybody is thot 
ready to fall in love thot you are yourself ’ — 
but she knew all the same — for she’s a wise 
bird, is Miss Affie.” 

And thus I heard the tale of Lyman Baker, 
of which I had thought much since that night 
when Silas had spoken of it; and thus many 
more of the minor family mysteries were 
io6 


Shannah 


cleared up in my infant mind. And I never 
betrayed good, gossipy Shannah. 

The day before the important dinner, and 
the following morning were busy times in our 
household. But grandmother was one of the 
most punctual of beings, and everything was 
in readiness for the final preparation and 
serving by a little after twelve. Then she sent 
us all upstairs to dress. 


107 


) 


VI 

WAS SHE JEALOUS ? 

“ She had craft. All hungry things have craft.” 

Thi Manxman. 










CHAPTER VI 


Jf^as She yealous f 

I N those days the young ladies brushed 
their hair much more than they do 
now. It seems to me, when I look 
back upon it, as though my aunts were always 
brushing their hair. At such times they would 
gather either in our room or the adjoining one, 
in which Cousin Calista and Aunt Leak slept, 
and, slipping on their combing-jackets, would 
sit down to long confidential discussions, 
which I loved to hear. 

On this great day we were all anxious, 
naturally, to look our very best. Aunt Jerry 
went into the other room to help Aunt Leah 
about something; but Aunt Apphia, bidding 
me sit still until she was ready to dress me, 
began to brush her hair, and presently Cousin 
Calista came in and sat down on the edge of 
Aunt Jerry^s little bed. She was brushing 
her hair, too. 

I crept upon the large white bed in which 
I slept with Aunt Apphia, and lay there, 


III 


up the Witch Brook Road 


patiently waiting until she should be ready to 
dress me. I have often heard it said that curly 
hair should never be brushed, but both Aunt 
Apphia and Cousin Calista had curly, and 
even kinky” hair, yet they were always 
brushing it, and the brushing seemed only to 
make their curls more beautiful. 

“ Uncle may say what he likes,” Cousin 
Calista declared with conviction, after sitting 
still for several minutes, “ but I believe they 
are good, through and through — don’t you, 
Affie? ” 

It was plain that she meapt the heroes of 
the runaway, though their names had not been 
mentioned. 

“ Ye-es,” said Aunt Apphia slowly. 

You speak as though there might be some 
doubt about it,” cried Cousin Calista, laboring 
away at the tangled mass of her curly yellow 
hair. 

I didn’t mean to. I was just thinking 
that Shannah was always forgetting to 
sweeten the whipped cream.” 

I think that young Holly is rather smitten 
with you,” hazarded Cousin Calista, peeping 
out teasingly from between her yellow locks. 

I wish you wouldn’t use that word,” pro- 


Was She Jealous ? 


tested Aunt Apphia with spirit. “ I hate it — 
and there is no occasion for you to use it now, 
anyway. Mr. Holly and the other one seem 
to me to treat us all just alike.” 

Well, Affie, dear,” went on Cousin Calista, 
in her most good-humoredly mischievous 
strain, “you can’t deny that you are just a 
little bit carried off your own feet by these 
good looking youths — now, you know you are.” 

Aunt Apphia chose to take her lightly. 

“ What signs do you see? ” she said, 
smilingly. 

“ Oh, such things can’t be set forth in 
terms,” laughed Cousin Calista, “ but I can 
tell just the same. And you like the Holly 
better than Dick. I can see that, too.” 

“ Don’t say ‘ Dick ’ in that familiar way, 
Calista,” protested Aunt Apphia. “ You will 
have Barbara here calling him ‘ Dick.’ ” 

“ It’s his name, anyhow,” chaffed on Cousin 
Calista; “and you don’t like him so well as 
you do Mr. Holly, do you? ” 

“ Perhaps not quite,” admitted Aunt Ap- 
phia discriminatingly. 

“ Neither do I.” 

There was the slightest possible trace of de- 
fiance in Cousin Calista’s tone. Aunt Apphia 

113 


up the Witch Brook Road 


made no rejoinder, but went on brushing her 
hair in the high light from the west dormer 
window. 

I don^t see what there is about you, Afl&e, 
that makes the men so fond of you,” resumed 
Cousin Calista, in her most exasperating 
manner. You are good-looking, but so are 
the other girls — and you would strike men, I 
should say, as too cold and too intellectual — 
but you don’t. You have only to look at them 
— and down they go.” 

What perfect nonsense! ” ejaculated Aunt 
Apphia, in her most frigid tone. When you 
are in this mood, Calista, it is all that I can 
do to keep my temper with you.” 

Well, you can’t deny it,” persisted Cousin 
Calista. “ Now, there was ” — 

“For heaven’s sake!” cried Aunt Apphia, 
showing out the feeling which she had evi- 
dently at first determined to conceal, don’t 
say another word, Calista — not another word 
— I mean it. Let the past go.” 

“ But there is the present,” Cousin Calista 
kept on. “ If rumor is right, there are two or 
three swains sighing like furnaces at this 
moment, all for love of you, right here in 
Birchmont — and I think the elegant Mr. Holly 
114 


Was She Jealous ? 


is going to fall straight into line with the 
others.” 

“ I wish yon wouldn^t talk such twaddle 
before the child,” said Aunt Apphia, resuming 
her temperate tone of a moment before. “ It 
isn^t nice, and you know it — and you know it 
isn’t true. Now stop it.” 

Eighty tighty ! ” laughed Cousin Calista, 
who was beginning to curl the long ringlets 
which hung over her temples. “ But ” — with 
a deeper note in her voice — maybe you won’t 
conquer everybody. Miss Majesty.” 

“ You may be very sure that I shall not try 
to conquer anybody, not anybody,” repeated 
Aunt Apphia, with warmth. 

“ If you do, you may get beaten at your own 
game.” The laughter had quite vanished now 
from Cousin Calista’s tone. She almost 
snapped out these last words, and when she 
turned toward Aunt Apphia, it seemed as 
though pale blue flames rayed out of her eyes. 

There will be no ‘ game,’ ” said Aunt Ap- 
phia coldly. ‘‘You shall have everything 
your own way, Calista — only don’t stoop to 
deceit in order to get it.” 

There was a pallor on her face and a stern 
meaning in her tone, which showed that she 

115 


TJp the Witch Brook Road 


was profoundly moved. It was plain that 
Cousin Calista also was violently agitated, 
hard as she strove to cover the fact. 

I lay perfectly quiet on the bed, apparently 
drowsing. But I was wide awake to a fact 
which my childish lips could not have ex- 
pressed, though my soul perceived it clearly; 
in spite of my good grandfather’s explicit 
warning, young hearts had kindled and young 
Romance was in the saddle. 

I realized in a vague way, too. Cousin Ca- 
lista’s power, and that she was a spoiled child 
of fortune, perfectly selfish and unscrupulous. 
She liked Mr. Holly. She had said so; and I 
felt that she meant to have him for her own. 
Girl-children sense these matters before they 
can begin to formulate them. As I lay there 
on the bed, all that Shannah had told me 
rolled over me in a great wave, and I thought 
to myself, like a little tiger, “If she gets my 
Mr. Holly away from my Aunt Apphia, I will 
kill her.” 

Then Aunt Jerry came in, with her long 
hair, almost like a shining sheet of purplish 
black thunder-cloud, hanging to her knees, and 
Aunt Leah followed, with her long, pale- 
brown mane hanging, too — almost as long, and 
ii6 


Was She Jealous ? 


much more even than Aunt Jerry’s — and then 
they all began to wonder how Aunt Apphia 
had got on so fast — for she was almost dressed. 

“ Because I have Barbara to get ready,” she 
said, calmly. 

Cousin Calista turned to me, lying on the 
bed. She had no idea that I had understood 
what had been said, and nothing of my wild 
passion against her could have shown in my 
face, for she stooped over me and exclaimed 
admiringly, You darling ! Isn’t she just like 
a picture, girls? Her hair is like spun gold — 
and see what a lovely pink spot she has in each 
cheek.” 

It might seem as though I would have loved 
her when she praised me so. She was the only 
member of the family who flattered me thus 
openly, and there was no reason to doubt her 
sincerity. Out of sheer gratitude I ought to 
have liked her a little, but I did not. I dis- 
liked her so much that it was all I could do to 
mind my manners, according to the instruc- 
tions which Aunt Apphia and Shannah had 
given me, and not show my real feelings. In- 
deed, I never took her hand, nor laid my head 
on her shoulder, nor submitted in any way to 
her caresses, unless I fairly had to. 

1 17 


up the Witch Brook Road 


The young men arrived promptly, and the 
dinner was a great success. My grandmother 
and the young ladies looked fairly patrician 
in their fresh sprigged muslins, lockets, neck- 
ribbons and tortoise-shell combs. The fact 
was early established that neither of our visit- 
ors was married, and certain remarks were 
made which led all my aunts to assert, the next 
day, under the vehement leadership of Cousin 
Calista (when grandfather refused to admit 
the proofs to be convincing), that they were 
not even engaged. 

The next event to be anticipated was 
their dinner call. Cousin Calista insisted that 
it would surely be paid within a week, but 
Aunt Jerry was equally positive that they 
would not come for ten or twelve days, at least. 
She searched through all of the recent issues 
of the “ Home Journal ” to prove her point, 
and read aloud at last triumphantly that, 
among the most formal circles, the dinner call 
was now usually paid at any time within the 
succeeding fortnight. 

That doesn’t mean the last week any more 
than the first week,” Cousin Calista insisted. 

But I am sure it is better form to call in 

ii8 


Was She Jealous ? 


the second than the first,” declared Aunt Jerry, 
dogmatically. 

For five afternoons we gathered regularly, 
as usual, in the east room, with our sewing 
birds and embroidery and reading, and started 
up at every noise on the bridge, and craned our 
necks to see everybody who went by. On the 
sixth afternoon, however, we made a change. 
We had all, during the morning, been helping 
with the housecleaning, some of which had 
been postponed uncommonly late on account 
of the cold spring, and grandmother had be- 
come so much interested in her labors in a 
certain part of the attic that she decided to 
remain there during the afternoon, and had 
deputed Aunt Jerry to assist her. A neighbor 
was about to remove to the West, and all of 
us had called upon her to bid her farewell, 
except Cousin Calista and Aunt Leah. 

“ You had better go and get that call done 
with,” advised grandmother. 

Cousin Calista and Aunt Leah, after some 
preliminary discussion, finally decided to go. 
They relied, more than they would have cared 
to own, upon Aunt Jerry^s infallible prevision 
in social matters. 


up the Witch Brook Road 


So Aunt Apphia and I sat alone in the east 
room in our afternoon finery, while grand- 
mother and Aunt Jerry, grimy with dust, over- 
turned trunks and boxes, with Shannah^s help, 
in the garret; and Cousin Calista and Aunt 
Leah sallied forth on a walk of a mile or more 
to see the departing neighbor. For fifteen 
minutes after they had gone we sat quietly 
sewing and chatting together, when suddenly 
there came a familiar pounding on the bridge 
— the sound for which we had listened for 
days. On the instant. Aunt Apphia turned 
perfectly white, and I thought again of my 
grandfathers warning words; but she looked 
quite like herself by the time that the young 
men had come in and taken seats in the parlor. 
Then I was sent to summon grandmother and 
Aunt Jerry, while many apologies were made 
by Aunt Apphia for the absence of the others. 

I had thought I heard a scurrying around 
upstairs while the young men were alighting, 
and, sure enough. Aunt Jerry’s quick ears had 
caught the sound of the horses’ hoofs almost 
as soon as ours had, and she did not need any 
summons to array herself as speedily as pos- 
sible in her sprigged dimity and to burnish 
her blue-black hair. She made a most elegant 


120 


Was She Jealous ? 


toilet in an incredibly brief space of time, and 
soon came into the parlor, flushed from her 
hurry, and handsomer than ever. I could not 
help noticing that Richard Perrine brightened 
up considerably when she appeared, and that 
he showed her, with remarkable zest and in- 
terest, certain mineral specimens which he had 
brought with him. 

Most of our mine seems to run to this sort 
of thing,” said George Holly, laying a lump of 
shining ore in Aunt Apphia’s small white 
hand. 

She and I looked at it eagerly. It was 
bright and beautiful, and it seemed to me to 
be full of diamonds. 

What do you think of it? ” he asked Aunt 
Apphia deferentially. 

Her color deepened a little. She evidently 
did not attach much value to the specimen, 
fine as it appeared to me, but she did not like 
to say what she thought. 

“ I don^t know much about mineralogy,” 
she confessed at last, slowly: but it looks to 
me like what we children used to call ‘ fooPs 
gold.’ ” 

Richard Perrine began laughing derisively 
at his friend. 

I2I 


up the Witch Brook Road 


“ Exactly what I have said all along,” he 
declared, triumphantly. 

Yes — but,” proceeded Aunt Apphia, we 
had a tradition that, though this was worth- 
less, veins of real gold were sure to be found 
near by — if we only knew how to get at them.” 

I^m not so sure that it is worthless,” 
mused George Holly, turning the fragment of 
rock over and over in his hand. 

“ Well, we have established the fact that, 
though it has considerable iron in it, it has 
no gold nor silver nor copper nor platinum,” 
argued Richard Perrine. 

There are many valuable minerals besides 
gold, silver, copper and platinum,” retorted 
his friend, with some heat. 

You are going to make discoveries, per- 
chance,” laughed Richard Perrine. 

It is not improbable. Discoveries have 
been made by others.” 

That would be fascinating,” cried Aunt 
Jerry. Oh, I do wish you would discover 
things in Hickory — sapphires, emeralds — even 
diamonds — why not? And that reminds me — 
we have a new flower in our garden. It is just 
open, and we think it is lovely. Don’t you 
want to come out and see it? ” 


122 


Was She Jealous ? 


Richard Perrine rose at once. George Holly 
followed his example slowly — but Aunt Ap- 
phia did not rise. 

The sun is rather hot in the garden,” she 
said. “ I think I will not go.” There was a 
little faltering note in her voice, which I did 
not understand until long afterward. George 
Holly looked at her with sudden concern. 

‘‘ You are not ill? ” he exclaimed. 

“ No, no^ — but I am not quite where I was 
before the — the runaway. Go out, all of you, 
and look at the flowers. They are really well 
worth seeing. Barbara, you had better go 
with them. I will sit here and sew.” 

I would rather stay with you,” I ventured, 
clinging to her gown. 

George Holly sank back into his seat. 

I will stay in, too,” he said. 

Very well,” commented Aunt Jerry, look- 
ing not in the least annoyed ; “ we will go 
without you ”, — and she and Richard Perrine, 
he holding a parasol gallantly over her, went, 
gaily laughing and talking, around the east 
corner of the house, over the thick June 
grass, past the myrtle bed, where the blue peri- 
winkle stars had flnished blooming, and past 
the honeysuckle bower, and the Scotch, and 
123 


up the Witch Brook Road 


York-and-Lancaster rose bushes, with buds 
just beginning to show color, out to the gay 
garden walk ; where they lingered so long that 
we began to wonder what had become of them. 

Not that we had a dull time in the parlor. 
Far otherwise. I shall never forget the anxiety 
with which, as soon as the others had left the 
room, George Holly moved up closer to Aunt 
Apphia, and began to inquire about her health. 

‘‘ You seemed well on the day when we came 
to dinner,’’ he said, in a half-injured tone. 

You said that you felt quite well again. I 
had worried before that for fear that you 
might have suffered some internal hurt — one 
of that dreadful sort which are slow in develop- 
ing and then equally slow to cure — but since 
then I have felt easier about you.” 

“ You are good to trouble yourself so much 
about me,” she said, in a way which seemed to 
me pretty cold and formal, considering that 
she was talking to a man who had saved both 
of our lives, only a few short weeks before. I 
could see that he felt it just as I did. 

Good ! ” he cried. “ Why, don’t you un- 
derstand, after that day, you and the child 
here were all that Dick and I thought of for 
days and days? In fact, we haven’t thought 
124 


Was She Jealous? 


of much else since. And you don^t know what 
it has been to us to find such a family to come 
and talk with about our work and the other 
trifles of our existence. It has been almost 
like getting home again. Oh, by the way, am 
I not to see your mother? We both of us want 
to tell her how much we enjoyed our visit here 
the other day. That dinner was one of the 
events of our lives.’^ 

Aunt Apphia explained about the attic and 
how grandmother would not let any hands but 
her own touch certain sacred trunks. 

I am sorry that she cannot stop long 
enough to let us speak with her a few mo- 
ments,^^ he said in a hurt way. He did not 
realize that proud old grandmother would 
rather have died than to have these elegant 
young men see her in anything less splendid 
than her dimity gown, her shell side-combs 
and her brocaded neck-ribbon. Her attic- 
cleaning garb was quite another story. 

I am sorry, and so is she, and it is too bad 
that my Cousin Calista and my sister Leah 
should not be here,” apologized Aunt Apphia, 
looking anxiously out at the window. 

I should like to see them,” returned 
George Holly, smilingly but coolly. How- 

125 


up the Witch Brook Road 


ever, I am having a good time, as things are — 
only, I do not like to hear that you are not 
well.” 

Oh, it isn’t anything but an incipient head- 
ache,” explained Aunt Apphia. “ I am usually 
perfectly well, but ever since our accident I 
have had a tendency to headache. And 
then ” — she put on an arch look which I 
loved to see, and which she always assujned 
when she confessed to grandmother any little 
misdemeanor, — I must own that I sat up 
last night, after I went to my room, until long 
after Barbara and my sister J erry were asleep. 
I had such an interesting book ! ” 

Tell me about it.” 

Oh, it was only a novel, but something 
very different from other books. The name of 
it is ‘ Jane Eyre.’ ” 

Oh, yes, I have read it,” he said eagerly. 

“ Do you like novels? Do you read many of 
them? ” 

“ Not many. I have been so long studying 
geologies and geographies and such like works 
that I have pretty much lost my appetite for 
fiction. Other books seem to me much more 
thrilling and exciting, as a general thing. But 
126 


Was She Jealous ? 


I have read your ‘ Jane Eyre/ and I think it 
is fine.” 

“ Do you? So do I, but I never could have 
cared for that Rochester.” 

No? Why, I thought he was a regular 
woman’s hero? ” 

“ Not mine,” laughed Aunt Apphia. 


127 




VII 


AN OLD BLACKSMITH 


“Talking over books in company draws people together or 
drives them apart. It never leaves them quite where it found 
them.” 


UeUn Dcmea Brawn. 



CHAPTEE VII 


An Old Blacksmith 


W HAT were his defects? ” he in- 
quired. 

Oh, I like a gentleman.^' 

A prig? A goody-goody? 

“ It would take a deal of courage in these 


days to admit that one likes a hero who is 
good,” she laughed. Somehow good people 
seem to be under a ban. One must admit that 
one is or has been pretty wicked in order to 
be admired. I must be hard to suit, though, 
for I didn^t like St. John any better than 
Rochester.” 

You are decidedly captious,” he laughed. 

Have you ever read a hook whose hero you 
liked?” 


“ No,” she confessed. 

‘‘ But you may have seen a good hero in real 
life, perhaps?” 

A flush crept over her face, which was radi- 
ant and blithe — her most winning expression. 
I — I don’t know,” she faltered. “ I should 


131 


up the Witch Brook Road 


have to think. Have you ever seen your ideal 
heroine? ” 

Yes/^ he answered, with embarrassing 
promptness. 

That is interesting, but I don’t quite un- 
derstand. Was it in a book that you saw her 
— or in the flesh? ” 

Oh, quite in the flesh, I assure you. She 
is undoubtedly real.” 

Let me tell you a secret,” she confided to 
him. I have always cherished a dream of 
writing a novel, but I could never construct 
a heroine to satisfy me. Tell me about yours. 
Perhaps she will please me, too.” 

But have you a hero for your great work? ” 
‘‘ I think I have — oh, yes, I am pretty sure 
I have.” Aunt Apphia smiled gaily. 

Tell me about him.” 

No — the heroine first, please.” 

Well,” he began, moving his chair up a 
little nearer still, and looking with a certain 
air of bravery into Aunt Apphia’s laughing 
hazel eyes ; she is not a city girl. All of the 
city girls whom I know are too — well — artifi- 
cial, conventional, vain. I don’t know just 
what to call them, but I like the country girls 
better.” 


132 


An Old Blacksmith 


His face was paling a little now, and his 
courage seemed to be ebbing; while her face 
was growing redder, and she moved uneasily 
in her seat. I could even feel her trembling 
slightly as I sat leaning against her in my 
little chair, with her arm around me — a beauti- 
ful round white arm, the flowing sleeve falling 
avay from it almost to the elbow. I saw 
George Holly look at it admiringly more than 
once. 

“ I am sorry to hear that,” she breathed 
doubtfully. My heroine is to be a city-bred 
girl. I do love beautiful manners — and only 
city-bred girls have those — or they certainly 
have the best. You must admit that.” 

Indeed, I admit nothing of the sort,” he 
argued stoutly. “ You had better take my 
country girl. She has good enough manners 
for anybody.” 

She is not going to do for me — not at all.” 
Aunt Apphia shook her head emphatically, so 
that her dark red curls drooped bewitchingly 
forward over her face. “ In fact,” she laughed, 
“ I am so sure that I shall not put her into my 
novel that I don^t believe I care to hear any- 
thing more about her.” 

“ But suppose I want to tell you? ” 

133 


up the Witch Brook Road 


No, no,” she insisted, shaking her curls 
still further over her face. 

She can ride a horse better than anybody 
else on earth,” he pursued firmly. 

That is not so bad,” she admitted. I do 
admire good horsemanship.” 

I told you that you would like her if you 
would only let me describe her,” he asserted 
triumphantly. Then she has dark red hair, 
with fascinating bronze lights playing over it 
— the most beautiful hair in the world.” 

There was a slight dreaminess in his tone, 
and I somehow seemed to see him again, sit- 
ting beside Witch Brook, with Aunt Apphia 
in his arms. She could not lift her eyes to 
his now, and through her curling tresses I 
could see that the color in her cheeks was fad- 
ing away. 

“ That — that is not my choice at all,” she 
stammered. My heroine must have golden 
hair — like Barbara’s. Oh, here come the 
girls ! ” 

She sprang up with an air of relief, but I 
felt very cross with her, not only because I 
had been enjoying the rather sentimental con- 
versation which she and Mr. Holly had been 
holding, and hated to have it interrupted, but 

134 


An Old Blacksmith 


because by her sudden movements she had 
disarranged my flossy curls and slightly 
wrenched my confiding little arms. 

Mr. George Holly stood erect to receive the 
young ladies, and his dark, handsome face, 
with its small side-whiskers, such as 
Godey’s ” assured us were the proper kind 
to wear, looked as calm and self-possessed as 
ever. 

Cousin Calista met him effusively, but as 
soon as the others began talking together, she 
whispered to me, Where is your Aunt Jerry? 
And didn’t Mr. Perrine come? ” 

“ Yes ; they are in the garden,” I whispered 
back to her. 

^^And why didn’t you and Aunt AfiBe go, 
too? ” 

Aunt Aflle’s head ached.” 

Humph ! ” groaned Cousin Calista. How 
long have they been gone? ” 

“ Oh, a little while,” I answered vaguely. 

^‘And you and Aunt Affie and Mr. Holly 
have been sitting here, have you?” 

Yes.” 

“ What have you been doing? ” 

Talking.” 

What have you been talking about? ” 

135 


up the Witch Brook Road 


Oh, books — and ore — and heroes, and 
things,” I replied comprehensively. 

Heroes and things ! ” repeated Cousin 
Oalista, through teeth rather closely shut to- 
gether. But she had no chance to get anything 
further out of me, for by this time Aunt Jerry 
and Mr. Perrine had come in, both of them in 
high spirits and laughing immoderately at 
what appeared to be nothing in particular, and 
grandfather followed almost immediately 
afterward. Then there was a new discussion 
of the lumps of ore, which grandfather agreed 
with Aunt Apphia in thinking only the old- 
fashioned “ fooPs gold,” a sort of iron pyrites, 
which, so far as he knew, had never been of 
the slightest use to anybody. 

But Miss Apphia said that there was a 
tradition in her childhood that real gold lay 
not far from it,” pleaded George Holly defen- 
sively. 

I never saw any real gold anywhere near 
it,” laughed my grandfather. There is a 
large vein of this fooPs gold in my pasture. 
We had occasion to blast up there a few years 
ago, and we discovered a great bed of it — but 
nothing better has turned up since.” 

Raspberry shrub and cake were brought in 
136 


An Old Blacksmith 


now by Shannah, and while we were partaking 
of these refreshments, grandfather talked with 
George Holly about the mine. It appeared 
that the young men had dug down a hundred 
feet. 

Why don’t you make an elbow now? ” in- 
quired my grandfather. That’s what they 
do, isn’t it — make an elbow? ” 

It was plain to me that my grandfather had 
no confidence that any profit would ever come 
from this mine. 

Yes,” said George Holly. “ We shall make 
an elbow at once. We are only feeling around 
to decide in which direction we shall turn off. 
You must certainly come up soon and see 
what a big hole we have made in the hill- 
side. We have four men working up there 
now.” 

Do you feel justified in investing much 
more money there? ” inquired my grandfather, 
kindly. “ You must have put a good deal in 
already.” 

“ Oh — only a few hundreds,” replied George 
Holly, carelessly. I shouldn’t feel satisfied 
to stop for awhile yet.” 

How long do you mean to keep on? ” 

A year was what we planned. Dick here 

137 


up the Witch Brook Road 


gets rather impatient sometimes — but I think 
we shall hang on for a year.” 

Well — I don’t know much about such mat- 
ters — but there are ever so many ways of in- 
vesting money besides dropping it down into 
these hills.” My grandfather was evidently 
trying, without hurting their feelings, to con- 
vey a warning to these rash youths against 
throwing away their capital. 

But I am a mining engineer,” explained 
George Holly, with a touch of pride in his tone. 

If I were not here, I should be at the same 
sort of thing somewhere else. I shall always 
be delving in some mine.” 

“ But there are mines which contain some- 
thing besides fool’s gold,” my grandfather re- 
minded him laughingly. 

The young man smiled back to him respect- 
fully, but he answ^ered, in a firm tone, “ This 
may, you know, sir — or the fool’s gold may 
prove to be worth, if not as much as real gold, 
still enough to pay for the mining, and more.” 

“ Very true, very true,” assented grand- 
father, heartily. I admire your pluck and 
perseverance, and I hope you will get your re- 
ward. It was certainly a fine thing for my 

138 


An Old Blacksmith 


family that you came to Hickory. Some of us 
might not have been alive to-day if it had not 
been for you, and it is very pleasant to have 
you drop in to see us. Of course,’^ my grand- 
father lowered his voice a little, our girls 
are only country lasses, and you are accus- 
tomed to more sophisticated young ladies, 
but ” 

I never saw young ladies anywhere,” broke 
in George Holly, eagerly, in a tone as low as 
my grandfather’s, but full of feeling, “ so beau- 
tiful, or so good as your daughters, or better 
mannered.” 

Thank you — thank you,” said my grand- 
father. You are very kind. Without dis- 
paraging your veracity, I understand that in 
good society in our cities it is the way to dwell 
most, and rather emphatically, upon the pleas- 
ant things — but I thank you.” 

He shook his guest’s hand as he spoke, but 
his rugged face looked moist and not entirely 
happy. 

The young men made a very slow farewell. 
Cousin Calista was begging for a picnic. They 
thought that the time was ripe for the long- 
promised excursion to Witch Brook, but my 

139 


up the Witch Brook Road 


grandfather was very busy, and Elihu, who 
had just come home from college, was very 
busy, too. 

“ I think that is too hard and long a trip 
for this time of year, when our men are so 
busy,” decided grandmother. Why cannot 
we have one of our delightful suppers on the 
Indian grave? We have scarcely been up there 
this summer.” 

A supper on an Indian grave did not seem, 
at first, to sound attractive to our guests. It 
was explained to them that the grave was 
really not a grave at all, but simply a beauti- 
ful little mound up in our pasture, on which 
checkerberries and princess’ pine grew, and 
which, as it stood just above a blood-curdling 
precipice, commanded a magnificent view. 

There is a wonderful grove close by, and 
it is the prettiest spot you ever saw. No In- 
dian was ever really buried there, you know,” 
explained Cousin Calista in her most bewitch- 
ing manner and winking her eyes languish- 
ingly in George Holly’s direction. 

So it was decided that we should have a 
picnic supper in full view of the sunset on 
the Indian grave a week from that very day. 
Two or three of Elihu’s college mates were in- 
140 


An Old Blacksmith 


tending to visit him about that time, and my 
aunts volunteered to invite one or two of their 
special friends among the village girls, and we 
were all sure that we should have a fine time. 

Just as the young men had bidden us all 
good-by and were standing out by the fence 
untying their horses, a singular-looking figure 
came along the street. It was a familiar one 
to us, but Mr. Holly and Mr. Perrine had never 
chanced before to encounter poor old “ Uncle 
Ezra Parkins, a harmless lunatic, once the vil- 
lage blacksmith, but stunned and crazed many 
years before by a blow on his head. In one 
hand Uncle Ezra carried a sort of a whiplash 
of grass on which he was perpetually braid- 
ing. With the other he suddenly lifted up the 
left hind leg of George Holly’s beautiful white 
mare. 

Ain’t shod right ! Ain’t shod right ! ” he 
exclaimed, in a queer, cracked voice. 

I would thank you, sir, to let my horse 
alone,” said George Holly haughtily. 

Oh, ho! Oh, ho ! You would, would ye? ” 
mocked the old man, incensed at George 
Holly’s tone and manner. 

We were all standing close beside the front 
door. Now my grandfather stepped forward 
141 


up the Witch Brook Road 


with dignity. I shrank a little closer to Aunt 
Apphia. Everybody considered Uncle Ezra as 
harmless, I knew, but, all the same, I was 
afraid of him, and so were many others among 
the village children. 

It is all right — it is all right, Mr. Par- 
kins,” interposed my grandfather conciliat- 

ingly* 

“ No, it ain’t all right, either,” affirmed the 
lunatic irritably. That shoe ain’t right. If 
I had my shop here now, I would fix it. ’Tain’t 
right.” 

The young men had mounted by this time 
and stood waiting, each with his hat in his 
left hand, until my grandfather should have 
concluded his conversation. 

‘‘ You are an excellent blacksmith, as we all 
know, Mr. Parkins,” went on my grandfather 
soothingly, ‘‘but this gentleman understands 
his horse, and he doesn’t think it is quite polite 
for you to meddle with her.” 

Several of the village men, who happened 
to be passing, loitered a little in order to look 
at the horses and their riders, and to listen to 
whatever might be said. Uncle Ezra drew back 
toward the fence, braiding fiercely away at his 
grass whiplash and muttering crossly to him- 
142 


An Old Blacksmith 


self. As the young men drove off, replacing 
their hats on their heads and sitting very 
straight and elegant in their saddles as they 
cantered across the bridge, the crazy man 
pointed to them sullenly and said, Who be 
they, Square?” 

“ They are some young men who are work- 
ing a mine up in Hickory, Mr. Parkins.” 

“ Wa’al, darn ’em for a high-feelin’, stuck- 
up pair ! ” cried the old man wrathfully. “ I 
say, darn ’em ! ” 

Oh, they are good enough young men,” 
laughed my grandfather. “ They simply don’t 
know you as we do. They are fond of their 
horses, and Mr. Holly probably thought you 
oughtn’t to meddle with his. You mustn’t mind 
them, Mr. Parkins. They are not used to our 
ways.” 

But the old man was not easily quieted. 

Workin’ a mine, be they? ” he muttered. 

They’ll mine fool’s gold, an’ that’s all — an’ 
it’s good enough for them darned high-steppers 
— I swan it is.” 

He wandered off, with his ill-humor not in 
the least mollified. 

I remember that I spoke up angrily to my 
grandfather, “ Uncle Ezra is a cross old man, 

143 


up the Witch Brook Road 


isn’t he, grandpa? Mr. Holly did not do any- 
thing bad, did he? ” 

He spoke a little more sharply than he 
needed to, Barbara, to such an old and feeble 
man.” 

I thought he spoke altogether too sharply,” 
said Aunt Leah. 

Cousin Calista laughed scornfully. 

“ This is what I call a tempest in a teapot,” 
she flung out, as she turned to walk into the 
east room. “ It was quite right for him to stop 
instantly any fooling with that beautiful horse. 
How did he know what that old idiot was going 
to do? He might have lamed her for life.” 

I looked up appealingly into Aunt Apphia’s 
face. I knew that she would see the matter in 
exactly the right light. 

“ I would rather he had spoken more gently, 
darling,” she whispered into my ear. “ I 
shouldn’t wish to blame him, for he didn’t 
mean any harm. He was a little excited, and, 
as grandpa said, he isn’t used to our sort of 
people. It is bad to get excited, because we 
can’t think clearly when we are excited,” and 
this little statement of the case, with the neat 
moral lesson tacked on for the improvement of 

144 


An Old Blacksmith 


my childish soul, quite satisfied me, as we all 
went in and sat down to supper. 

It did, indeed, seem to us as if there had 
been, as Cousin Calista said, merely “ a temp- 
est in a teapot.” But only a few days passed 
before this apparently trifling incident loomed 
up like a Brocken specter, and chilled us all 
with an unspoken terror. 


145 




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VIII 

AN INDISCRETION 


“ How preach to a creature on the bend of passion’s rapids? 
One might as well read a chapter from the Bible to a delirious 
patient.” 


George Meredith. 



CHAPTER VIII 


An Indiscretion 

N the very day before the Saturday 



which had been set for the picnic, 


Elihu Trimble was taken ill. The 
friends whom he had been expecting to visit 
him were notified not to come, and it was 
decided that we could not have our picnic. 

‘‘ It is a most inconvenient time for Elihu to 
be sick,” mumbled Cousin Calista crossly, as 
she and Aunt Apphia and I were sitting in the 
east room just before dinner. “ How are Mr. 
Holly and Mr. Perrine going to know that we 
shall not have the picnic? ” 

Aunt Apphia was darning a table-cloth in a 
most elaborate manner, and, almost without 
seeming to hear, she answered, I don’t know, 
I’m sure.” 

If those friends of his hadn’t happened to 
live in a diametrically different direction,” 
Cousin Calista mumbled on, “ then Ben Trim- 
ble could have stopped on his way and told the 


149 


up the Witch Brook Road 


young men in Hickory. But they will come 
down here — and then we can’t have our pic- 
nic.” Ben Trimble was Elihu’s younger 
brother, a boy of sixteen, who had taken a stage 
that morning in order to inform the expected 
visitors in person of Elihu’s condition. 

No,” commented Aunt Apphia. Elihu 
is too sick. Leah would not go, — and that 
would spoil everything.” 

“ Is he going to die? ” I asked, very much 
frightened by her tone. 

“ Oh, mercy, no ! ” cried Cousin Calista. 

But he had to take blue pill and Dovers’ 
powders, — I heard Aunt Leah say so,” I in- 
sisted stoutly. 

It does sound enough to kill him,” laughed 
Cousin Calista, “ but let us hope for the best. 
What a child you are ! But, come, Affie, don’t 
you think somebody ought to go up to Hickory 
and tell the young men that we are not going 
to have the picnic? ” 

No,” replied Aunt Apphia emphatically. 

Why? — they won’t like to take that long 
ride just for nothing.” 

“ It won’t hurt them, I fancy,” rejoined 
Aunt Apphia heartlessly. “ I don’t think they 
are seriously overworked.” 

150 


An Indiscretion 


“ I suppose you think you can entertain 
them, if they do come? ” 

If I can’t, there are enough others who 
can.” Aunt Apphia’s temper was well in 
hand. 

Poor Leah has been crying most of the 
morning,” remarked Cousin Calista, seeing 
that Aunt Apphia was not exactly in a teas- 
able mood. 

She is always frightened to death if Elihu 
doesn’t look just so, you know,” said Aunt Ap- 
phia. “ He is evidently pretty sick, — but he 
will be all right in a few days, I have no 
doubt” 

In the meantime, I think some word ought 
to be sent to the young men in Hickory,” per- 
sisted Cousin Calista. “ If we don’t let them 
know,” she added artfully, “ it will look as if 
we thought it was a good chance to have a 
visit again with them all by ourselves.” 

What if they do? ” asked Aunt Apphia dis- 
dainfully. Neither father nor Josiah can 
possibly go to-day, and we certainly can’t 
afford to hire anybody else. As I said, I don’t 
see how it will hurt them to come down and 
find we are not going to have the picnic. 
Mother will ask them to sup with us quietly 


up the Witch Brook Road 


at home, — and then they will go back again. 
The king of France and forty thousand men 
rode up the hill and then rode down again, 
and so can our friends from Hickory.” 

I think they will be pretty ‘ mad ^ with us 
for not letting them know.” 

‘‘If they are foolish enough to be that,” 
commented Aunt Apphia severely, “ let them. 
It would be just as well all around, perhaps.” 

She tossed her head with considerable 
spirit, and devoted herself more assiduously 
than ever to her darning. 

“ I think,” went on Cousin Calista cau- 
tiously, after weighing Aunt Apphia’s words 
for a moment, — “ I think the only polite way 
to do is to send word to them. If there is 
anybody on earth that we ought to be polite 
to, it is those young men.” Cousin Calista’s 
air was one of strenuous and unflinching 
virtue. “ I think it is frightfully rude to allow 
them to come down here without making an 
effort to let them know. You and I — now it 
would be perfectly proper, — don’t look at me 
that way, — we could ride up there, — you on 

Tansy, and I on Lady Jane, ” 

Lady Jane was Cousin Calista’s own pony, 
a beautiful gray mare, gentle and fleet. 

152 


An Indiscretion 


Calista Summers, — what do you mean?’^ 
demanded Aunt Apphia, more frankly angry 
than I had ever before seen her. “ You must 
be crazy. I tell you, it will do no harm to let 
them come down here, — and then explain how 
we were situated. You had better not tell my 
father what you suggested to me just now.” 

Oh, — he wouldn^t look at it as you do ! — 
Calm yourself, Affie. It is you who are going 
crazy. I tell you it is the only thing to do.” 

Aunt Apphia simply gazed at her with 
thunder and lightning in her clouded hazel 
eyes; but the lawless young arch-conspirator 
pouted and nodded, and was evidently in a 
mood to do almost anything. 

“ It wouldn’t do any harm for me to go all 
alone,” she flung forth, after a moment’s 
pause. 

‘‘Oh, no, — no harm, perhaps,” commented 
Aunt Apphia cuttingly. “The only result 
might be that they would despise you to your 
dying day, — and possibly all the rest of us.” 

“ I think they would like us all the better,” 
persisted Cousin Calista obstinately. 

There were no tramps about Birchmont in 
those days, — no railroads, — none of those 
modern developments and inventions which 

153 


up the Witch Brook Road 


have now made every corner of the globe a 
possible lurking-place for the horrible after- 
math of degeneracy which forever pursues 
advanced civilization. So far, Cousin Calista 
was right. On her beautiful Lady Jane she 
could probably go safely anywhere she chose. 
Only the proprieties would be outraged, — and 
she was just now in no mood to care for them. 
Her pretty, brazen face was red with passion. 
She was angry to be cheated out of the picnic. 
She knew, also, that if Aunt Apphia’s plan 
were carried out, there would be no chance for 
the private, personal little interviews to which 
she had been looking forward. The family 
would be all together in the parlor, as usual, — 
the conversation would be general, — and, 
though she might play never so entrancingly 
on her harp, and though she might toss off a 
sparkling witticism with every breath, she 
would have none of the individual incense for 
which her soul was longing. Aunt Apphia 
and Aunt Jerry and the others would be there, 
— and the attention of the guests would have 
to be divided with them. Cousin Calista knew 
only too well what this meant. 

Perhaps J erry will go with me,’^ pursued 
Cousin Calista, shaking her pretty yellow 

154 


An Indiscretion 


curls over her face, and looking through them 
at Aunt Apphia, with her eyes narrowed, and 
very malicious in expression. 

Calista ! ” cried Aunt Apphia. 

''Yes,'’ went on Cousin Calista, deliber- 
atel3\ All we shall do will be to canter 
briskly up there, — it won't take more than two 
hours, — leave the word, — perhaps with Jed 
Sears or his wife, — very likely we sha'n't see 
the young men at all, ” 

Very likely," murmured Aunt Apphia, 
sarcastically. 

And then ride home again," finished 
Cousin Calista, as though she were making 
the most reasonable proposition in the world. 

If you are really set on sending them 
word," began Aunt Apphia, finding her voice 
with difficulty, and then having all that she 
could do to control it, “ hire some farm-boy 
in the neighborhood. If you do not care to 
pay him, I will gladly pay him myself. I could 
not believe that you were in earnest in this 
matter when you first spoke of it, but since 
you really seem to be, let me say, once for 
all, Calista Summers, that I would rather 
see my sister Jerry dead than riding off on 
any such immodest and silly expedition, — and 
155 


up the Witch Brook Road 


I believe she would rather die herself than do 
it. Even if the young men should honestly 
like you now, — and I think they do like you, 
— they would never wish to see you again, 
if you should ride up to their place as you 
suggest. Why, Calista, — are you possessed? 
They will think that you are, — and my father, 
— he will think, — what will he think, Ca- 
lista? 

I did not know then the familiar proverb 
concerning those whom the gods would des- 
troy, but it would have applied to the case. 

Cousin Calista’s hot face changed a little 
at the mention of my grandfather. 

Don’t you say anything to him about it, Af- 
fie, — now, don’t you ! ” she cried, almost burst- 
ing into tears. “ You are deep, Apphia 
Wells! It is your name, and it is your na- 
ture, — and you think you can down me in 
this just as you have downed me time and time 
again, before now! But you sha’n’t, — you 
sha’n’t do it! I will show you that I can 
break webs, — even if you can spin them better 
than I can. You think you can throw me off 
the track by flinging up ‘ propriety ’ to me, — 
just as if I care for that. Do you believe 
there is anybody in this mean little town who 
156 


An Indiscretion 


would dare to say a word against me? I tell 
you, I am above and beyond all that sort of 
thing, — and you know it. All you want is 
just to take everything for yourself, — and cut 

me out of everything — and ” 

“ Calista ! ” broke in Aunt Apphia, “ don’t 
have such a scene as this before the child, — 
don’t ! Oh, how can you, Calista? ” 

She began to sob under the fierce lashings 
of that waspish and unbridled tongue, and for 
a moment Cousin Calista kept silence. Pres- 
ently Aunt Apphia rallied enough to say, 
brokenly, “ Well, — I have said all that I can. 
I suppose you will do as you please? ” 

“ That I shall,” retorted Cousin Calista 
sullenly. And whatever I do, Affie, — don’t 
you tell what I have said, — now you must 
promise.” 

‘‘ Indeed, I shall make no promises what- 
ever,” declared Aunt Apphia with spirit. 

She renewed her labors upon the old table- 
cloth, and just then my grandfather, placid 
and beaming as usual, entered and began to 
look over his papers on the table. He observed 
nothing out of the common, and presently 
Shannah came to the door and announced 
dinner. 


157 


XJp the Witch Brook Road 


The rest started at once for the dining- 
room, talking briskly, but I lingered behind 
with Annt Apphia, while she was folding np 
her work. My little soul was boiling with re- 
sentment. 

“ I hate Cousin Calista ! ” I whispered to 
her fiercely. “ I just hate her.” 

Stop, stop ! ” she whispered back to me. 

Don^t you say such a thing, — and never, 
never, Barbara, repeat what we have said this 
morning. Promise me.” 

I promised, and never during all of those 
stirring days that followed, nor during the 
long years since, did I reveal the story of that 
quarrel which showed so much of Cousin 
Capstans soul to Aunt Apphia and to me. 

“ But I hate her just the same,” I insisted. 

She killed Mr. Lyman Baker.” 

Aunt Apphia gave a little shriek. 

Who under the sun told you that? ” she 
demanded. 

I was a little alarmed at what I had said, 
and would not reply. 

I wonder if it could have been Shannah 
who told you that?” she mused, looking at 
me sharply. 


158 


An Indiscretion 


I was still uncommunicative. I would not 
for worlds have betrayed that faithful soul. 

What could she have meant? Aunt Ap- 
phia stopped to meditate aloud, in spite of 
the fact that they were all sitting at the 
table, and grandfather was waiting to say 
grace. 

“ She did kill him,^^ I persisted darkly, 
“ and she will kill somebody else the first you 
know.” 

“ Do you never say such a thing as that 
again, Barbara ! ” she whispered, shaking me 
until I almost cried. Cousin Calista could 
not do such a terrible thing, — she could not, 
you naughty girl ! ” 

“ She told him lies, — and it broke his heart, 
and killed him,” I persisted, weeping now out- 
right. 

Oh, — that is what you mean, you queer 
child ! ” she said in a relieved way. “ Well, 
— I suppose some of the neighbors told you 
that. I wish they would hold their tongues. 
You mustn^t let them tell you such things. 
Who could it have been? ” 

But grandfather called us sternly at just 
that moment,— and so many things happened 

159 


up the Witch Brook Road 


during the next day or two that Aunt Apphia 
never again recurred to the subject. 

Cousin Calista said not a word during the 
serving of the dinner. In an incredibly short 
time she had finished eating, and excused her- 
self. Then she went out into the kitchen, 
where she held a brief interview with Josiah 
and Shannah. Presently she came in again, 
in her light green riding habit, with her green 
hat to match, its two long white feathers trail- 
ing down over her hair. She was always 
picturesque, and possessed, more than any of 
my aunts, the indefinable but magic quality 
of ‘‘ style.” In this garb she was positively 
handsome. 

“ Oh, are you going to ride, my dear? ” said 
my confiding grandfather, regarding her 
fondly. Going all alone? ” 

Yes, unless one of the girls will go with 
me. Apphia says she won’t” — poutingly — 
“ and Leah is too distracted, I suppose, over 

poor Elihu, — and ” 

Not I,” declared Aunt Jerry cheerfully 
munching an apple turnover. I’ve got 
something else to do. Miss Ladybird.” 

Aunt Apphia’s worried look lightened a 
little. 


i6o 


An Indiscretion 


“ I wish I could go,” said Aunt Leah affec- 
tionately, and looking reproachfully toward 
Aunt Jerry. 

Oh, but then she couldn^t run down the 
road every fifteen minutes and inquire how 
her tootsy-wootsy Elihu is,” giggled Aunt 
Jerry. 

“ Jerusha,” reproved grandmother, you 
do not seem to realize that Elihu is a very sick 
boy.” 

Aunt Leah looked as if she did not like 
the word boy,” just there, but Cousin Ca- 
lista cut short the discussion with a curt. 

Well, — good-by.” 

Oh, I wouldn’t go, Calista, — not far, — and 
you’d better go down the river,” wailed Aunt 
Apphia, her face white with a pallor which 
the others could not understand. 

“ Thank you, — I think I shall take quite a 
ride. Lady Jane hasn’t been out for two 
days, and she needs exercise. I don’t know 
when you will see me again.” 

Cousin Calista sailed airily out of the room, 
with her white feathers fioating around her 
head. Some of us rushed to the window to 
see her start off. She made Josiah hold out 
his hand, as she had taught him to do, and 

i6i 


up the Witch Brook Road 


then she put her foot into it, and vaulted 
easily into her handsome saddle. An instant 
afterward Lady J ane’s feet cantered off across 
the bridge. Cousin Calista was headed for 
Hickory, and she rode with the manner of one 
possessed, as Aunt Apphia had said she 
talked. 

After she had sewed an hour or more be- 
side the east window that afternoon. Aunt 
Apphia took my hand and we strolled to- 
gether out into the garden. She had lingered 
longer than usual after dinner, over her 
simple toilet, and I could see, though the 
others, not knowing what I knew, did not seem 
to remark anything out of the common, 
that she was perfectly wretched. We began 
to pull weeds here and there, and to cut away 
the few faded flowers. Grandmother was work- 
ing again in the attic with Shannah to help 
her. Grandfather had just started for the 
county town, expecting to be gone several 
days. Court would open the next morning, 
and he had some cases coming on. 

Presently Aunt Jerry followed us. She, 
too, began to pull weeds, and to straighten 
and tie up the plants. For a long time none 
of us said anything. Then Aunt Apphia 
162 


An Indiscretion 


asked suddenly, “Jerry, did she really urge 
you to go with her? ” 

Aunt Jerry understood who was meant, 
though she seemed to wonder at the question. 

“ No,” she answered promptly. Then she 
added, after a moment’s thought, “ Do you 
know where she has gone? ” 

“ N-no,” replied Aunt Apphia, hesitatingly, 
“ but I can guess.” 

“So can I,” rejoined Aunt Jerry smartly; 
“ only, — she can’t be such a goose, Affie ! ” 

“ It would be worse than being a goose.” 
“A thousand times!” cried Aunt Jerry 
poignantly. “ What will they think of all of 
us? ” 

After a little, we left the garden and strolled 
into the orchard, which extended back of the 
house and down to the river. It was a 
cloudy afternoon, with a fresh, fitful wind 
blowing. To this hour I have a nervous, 
uncomfortable feeling, such as I had on that 
(Jay— afterward a marked one forever in my 
calendar, — whenever the weather is like that. 
For awhile we sat on a big rock in the river. 
It was known in the family as the Sucker 
Rock, and great droves of suckers were for- 
ever lounging around and under it. In order 
163 


up the Witch Brook Road 


to reach it, we had to jump across a good 
many stepping-stones, to the imminent danger 
of our pretty kid shoes and openwork stock- 
ings, but I was the only one who really wet 
my feet. I did not mind it. We were all of 
us glad to have something to make us forget 
the thing which was most on our minds. It 
was delightful at last to hear the tea-bell 
ringing, up at the end of the garden, and to 
know that the long afternoon was past. 

We hurried silently through the orchard, 
and found Aunt Leah waiting for us there. 
She had just come from the Trimbles^ and 
reported that Elihu^s fever was lower and the 
doctor said that, if he should have a good 
night, he would be well soon. 

Hasn’t Calista come?” asked Aunt Ap- 
phia, hardly able to wait until Aunt Leah 
finished her long exposition of Elihu’s case. 

‘‘Oh, no. I hadn’t thought of that. It is 
time she was home, sure enough.” 

“ I should think it was,” remarked Aunt 
Apphia grimly. “ However,” she added, just 
as we entered the door, “ don’t show any 
anxiety before mother.” 

We should have known enough not to do 
that as soon as we saw grandmother, who fell 
164 


An Indiscretion 


into a state almost of hysterics when she 
found that none of us had any tidings of 
Cousin Calista. Neither she nor any of my 
aunts had ever been gone alone so long as 
this. Aunt Apphia tried to laugh away 
grandmother^s perturbation, and we began to 
talk in the liveliest possible strain in order to 
divert her mind. 

One of our neighbors had bought a lot of 
wood for good, dry fireplace wood, and it had 
turned out to be green all through. 

“ But I managed it,” she had said to Aunt 
Jerry, as that vivacious maiden now related. 

“ What did she do? ” inquired grand- 
mother. 

You never could guess,” laughed Aunt 
Jerry. She had a lot of bad butter. She 
had intended to throw this away, but, instead, 
she used it to butter the logs, and they blazed 
up fiercely. Did you ever hear of such an 
idea? ” 

Grandmother was much amused, but not 
enough so to forget Cousin Calista. 

“Hark!” she cried. “ Doesn^t that sound 
like Lady Jane coming across the bridge!” 

“ Oh, mercy, no. That is Mr. Dart’s old 
Betsey. Calista wouldn’t thank you for ma- 
i6s 


up the Witch Brook Road 


king such a mistake as that. She will be 
coming presently. I heard of something over 
at Mr. Dart^s which will interest you, mother. 
You know Shannah says we never can get rid 
of those mice. Our cat doesn’t make the least 
impression on them, but what do you think he 
keeps?” 

“Two cats?” suggested grandmother.- 

“ Not at all. He keeps — a chipmunk, — and 
the chipmunk catches ever so many mice. 
Mr. Dart has seen it dragging them away, — 
and they have no trouble any more with mice. 
We positively must keep a chipmunk.” 

Even the thought of getting rid of the mice, 
and all of Aunt Jerry’s fun, could not long 
divert grandmother’s mind from the disquiet 
which was consuming it. 

“ Oh,” she broke out, even while the word, 
“ chipmunk,” lingered on Aunt Jerry’s lips, 
“ what can have happened to Calista? ” 


i66 


A SENSATION 

“ — Untaught in youth my heart to tame, 
My springs of life were poisoned.” 



CHAPTER IX 


A Sensation 

A fter supper, grandmother insisted 
that Josiah should go in search of 
the missing girl, and he started 
obediently for the barn to harness Tansy. 
Grandmother took her seat in the front door- 
way. There was no piazza upon our old- 
fashioned colonial house. Aunt Apphia and 
I stood at the gate, while across the bridge, 
as far off as we could see. Aunt Jerry and 
Aunt Leah were strolling slowly back and 
forth. We watched Josiah ride up to and 
past them. Then they walked quite back to 
us, — and again off to the other end of the 
street. The whole family were nervous, and 
all the more because of grandfathers absence. 

Suddenly, in the distant dimness of the 
gathering twilight, Aunt Apphia, whose sight 
was like a hawk^s, saw a gay cavalcade ap- 
proaching, and gave a relieved little scream. 
Grandmother, who had been so much over- 
come that she had finally retreated to the 
169 


Vp the Witch Brook Road 


couch in the east room, heard the joyful sound 
and came running out to the gate, with her 
pretty cap on awry, her vanity quite lost in 
her concern. 

On came the cavalcade. We could presently 
discern that it consisted of two men and a 
woman. Then we could make out the flowing 
outlines of Cousin Calista’s white feathers, 
and could hear the sound of merry voices. 

Calista doesn’t act as if she felt very bad 
at giving us such a fright,” murmured poor 
grandmother, in a tone of grieved reproach. 
Then she added repentantly, Of course, she 
didn’t mean to.” She was very fond of 
Cousin Calista, who, indeed, petted grand- 
mother more, perhaps, than did any one of 
my aunts. 

“ You stay here, Barbara,” whispered Aunt 
Apphia, when it became certain that this was 
Cousin Calista, with the two young men from 
Hickory, and that all was well with them; 
“ I have a headache, and I shall go up stairs. 
Don’t let them send for me, — for I shall not 
come down.” 

For once, I let her flit away without fol- 
lowing her. I was all a-tremble with the ex- 
170 


A Sensation 


citement of Cousin Calista^s return, and with 
the thought of seeing the interesting young 
men from Hickory ; and in the hubbub none of 
the family remarked Aunt Apphia^s absence. 
Shannah began to light the lamps and candles, 
while the rest of us flocked out around the 
new-comers, everybody talking at once. Mr. 
Perrine, — I noticed particularly that it was 
Mr. Perrine, — threw himself from his horse 
first, and helped Cousin Calista to dismount. 
Then, all chattering briskly, and Cousin Ca- 
lista especially merry and radiant, they 
trailed into the parlor, where they talked on 
until Shannah summoned them into the din- 
ing-room, where grandmother and she had 
furnished forth considerably more than ‘‘ a 
trifling, foolish banquet.” 

How did you happen to think of such a 
wild scheme as going up to the mine, Ca- 
lista? ” inquired grandmother rather sternly. 

I didn^t go to the mine,” pouted Cousin 
Calista. “I rode only a little way up the 
Witch Brook road, — ^you know we have never 
been up that road,— and I was only going up 
to Mr. Sears's farm-house, anyway, just to 
leave word about the picnic,— when all of a 
171 


up the Witch Brook Road 


sudden I saw two dashing young men ap- 
proaching, — and they insisted upon accom- 
panying me home.” 

“ We could not think of letting her start 
back without something to eat,” explained 
George Holly seriously. “ I left her in the 
care of Dick, here, while I went to see what I 
could find at our farmhouse in the shape of 
sandwiches and so on. I thought I should 
never get anything together there. Mrs. 
Sears is embarrassed when she is requested 
to hurry, — especially when her resources are 
not quite adequate to the demand. I am 
afraid our delay caused you some worry, — 
and, after all, I brought back a slender sup- 
per, — and what there was of it wasn’t very 
good.” 

It was delicious,” declared Cousin Calista. 

“ It was mere sawdust beside this ambrosia 
and nectar,” insisted George Holly. 

I showed my appreciation by eating it 
all,” asserted Cousin Calista. Why, what 
is the matter with you, Shannah? You look 
as if you had had a fit of sickness.” 

Shannah, as might have been expected 
from one of her excitable nature, had taken 
Cousin Calista’s adventure very hard. 

172 


A Sensation 


“ Oh, Miss Calista ! ” she burst forth now, 
in a tone of heartfelt relief ; “ I’ve been that 
worrited about you that I couldn’t get the 
better of it. Even now you’re home, I can’t 
get the better of it, — I am very physical, as 
you know. Miss Calista, — as physical as 
most, — but indade it makes me faint at my 
heart-like.” 

“ How foolish you are, Shannah ! ” laughed 
Cousin Calista, still in the highest of spirits. 

And you knew that I was on Lady J ane, 
too, — the surest-footed horse in the county. 
I’ll wager. You act as if I didn’t know how 
to ride, Shannah.” 

“ Oh, everybody knows there are no young* 
ladies for riding like ours, in all the land,” 
admitted Shannah, proudly ; “ but since Tansy 
was thot venomous last month, Miss Calista, 
almost anything might happen.” 

‘‘ That’s so, Shannah,” laughed Cousin Ca- 
lista. Poor Shannah left the room with a 
comfortable feeling of having vindicated her 
claim to intellectuality by the use of so many 
big words, and they all fell to talking of other 
things. 

I had noticed, and I fancied that grand- 
mother had observed it also, that George 

m 


up the Witch Brook Road 


Holly had been sober and quiet all the eve- 
ning. He seemed to be looking around him 
uneasily. I remembered the heroine with 
the bronze lights in her hair, and I felt sure 
that he would inquire soon for Aunt Apphia. 

“ You have added to our already heavy debt 
by your kindness to Calista,” began grand- 
mother, who sat next him. She evidently 
set forth without any clear idea of where she 
was going. We were all greatly excited by 
Elihu^s sudden attack, and the changes which 
that entailed, — and none of the girls seemed 
quite like herself.” 

Poor grandmother hardly knew what to say. 
She felt as if Cousin Calista^s conduct re- 
quired an apology of some sort, yet she did 
not like to imply that that self-willed maiden 
had committed an indiscretion. George 
Holly simply passed the matter by without 
comment, and took up another theme. 

“Oh, it was of no consequence, — only a 
pleasure, indeed. You say that the girls all 
feel not quite like themselves,” he repeated. 
“ I hope Miss Apphia is not ill?” 

“ Why, no. Isn’t she here? ” Grand- 
mother peered around the table vaguely. 

“ She has got a headache,” I reported glibly. 

1174 


A Sensation 


Then I added gratuitously, “ It made her sick 
to worry so,’^ and looked darkly toward 
Cousin Calista. 

The young man could not help smiling at 
the fierceness of my glance, but he continued 
his conversation with my grandmother. 

“ Miss Wells seems to be very delicate? ” 
Delicate? ” repeated grandmother, in a 
surprised way. ‘‘We have never called her 
delicate. We think she is pretty strong, — 
stronger than most of us. She has never been 
really ill in her life. Perhaps she has been 
more nervous than usual, since the runaway.” 

“ Yes, it isi too bad that such a thing should 
have happened, — and yet if it had not, we 
might never have known you all.” 

As they talked and laughed on, I began 
to grow sleepy, and to long for my dear Aunt 
Apphia. I slipped down from my seat, put 
my arm around grandmother^s neck, gave her 
a good-night kiss, and was about to go away 
quietly, when George Holly laid a detaining 
hand upon me and drew my unresisting little 
form upon his lap and kissed my forehead. 

“ Will you take a message from me to your 
Aunt Apphia? ” he whispered into my ear. 

“ Yes,” I whispered joyously back to him. 

175 


XJp the Witch Brook Road 


‘^Tell her that I missed her very mnch/^ 
he whispered; ‘‘very much. Now, can you 
remember that? ” 

I nodded to him, with a wicked sense of 
triumph in my heart, and I am sure my eyes 
were glowing when, after holding me tightly 
for a moment, he set me carefully down and 
I ran up-stairs to deliver my precious message 
to Aunt Apphia. 

I found her lying in the dark, fully dressed. 
My candle disclosed traces of tears on her 
cheeks, and showed that her beautiful ring- 
lets were rough and disordered. My jubilant 
mood seemed to strike jarringly upon her, 
as she rose and began to prepare for the 
night. 

“ What made you cry, auntie? ” I asked her 
timidly. “ You were glad to have Cousin Ca- 
lista come back, weren’t you? ” 

“ Glad ! It seems as if I never were gladder 
of anything in my life,” she answered fer- 
vently. 

“ And I don’t think they were very despis- 
ing, the way you said,” I continued comfort- 
iiigly. 

Aunt Apphia fell to laughing softly, and 
caught me up in her arms as she sat on the 
176 


A Sensation 


bed, covering me with the soft auburn cloud 
of her unbound hair. 

“ Then, why did you cry? ” I persisted. 

‘‘ Oh, I couldn’t explain, darling,” she told 
me. I tried to work out the problem for my- 
self ; but in the light of Mr. Holly’s beautiful 
message and all the other blessings of the day, 
I could not solve it. 

After we had put out the light, we heard 
the young men canter off across the bridge, 
and presently Aunt Jerry came up to bed. I 
wanted to ask her what they had talked about 
after I came away, but Aunt Apphia had 
bidden me keep perfectly still, and long be- 
fore Aunt Jerry had finished her always elab- 
orate preparations to retire, I was fast asleep. 

The next morning I was up early. I re- 
member that Aunt Apphia and I worked for 
an hour or more before breakfast in the gar- 
den. Breakfast was late, for grandfather had 
found out that his cases were not coming on 
for a week or more, and had unexpectedly ar- 
rived in the night. He was very tired, and 
had decided not to get up at the usual time. 
Cousin Calista naturally preferred also to 
rest later than usual. The house was very 
still when we went out. Shannah, heavy- 
177 


up the Witch Brook Road 


eyed and with a shuffling step, was building 
the kitchen fire. Everything was calm, but it 
was the calm which precedes the tempest. 

Suddenly, while Aunt Apphia and I were 
raking up the little piles of weeds which we 
had accumulated, we heard a strange hubbub 
in the kitchen. There was a buzzing as of 
a million bees; then there were shouts of a 
more or less shocked yet muffled character. 
Then we heard Shannah groaning. 

We stopped and listened for an instant 
Then, without a word. Aunt Apphia dropped 
her rake and rushed toward the house. I 
followed on after her. 

“ What is it? What is it? ” she cried 
wildly, as we burst in at the door. 

“ Oh, rest his sowl ! The poor old man ! 
Such a quare, poor old man ! An’ who could 
have done it — such a venomous thing! Oh, 
it is lame?itable! An’ his gray hair was all 
bedabbled with blood, was it? An’ did some- 
body shoot him wid a pistol, I’m wonderin’! 
I gollies ! Lord save us ! ” 

Shannah sank into a chair, and, after the 
manner of her kind, threw her apron over 
her head, while she was in the midst of 
her apostrophe. As she sat down, she dropped 
178 


A Sensation 


the knife and fork with which she was just 
about to turn an omelet. This was now in 
imminent danger of burning. 

Grandmother, who had been standing like 
a marble image in the doorway opposite us, 
hurried forward, picked up the knife and fork, 
wiped them methodically on a towel which 
hung on a line above her head, and turned the 
omelet properly. It was not until then that 
she seemed able to speak, and even then she 
looked at us in a blind and helpless way, and 
could only murmur, Oh ! Oh ! It is too ter- 
rible to tell.” 

Shannah ! ” demanded Aunt Apphia, 
shaking her by the shoulder, You must tell 
me! Whose gray hair? What do you 
mean? ” 

She pulled Shannah’s apron from before 
that agitated maiden^s stained and working 
features, and she, opening her mouth obe- 
diently, tried to speak ; but her tongue by this 
time could only burr vehemently. She could 
not utter a coherent word. 

We heard Aunt Jerry coming like a whirl- 
wind through the house. 

She will tell us ! ” gasped Aunt Apphia, 
and as that energetic damsel appeared in the 
179 


up the Witch Brook Road 


doorway, followed closely by Cousin Calista 
and Aunt Leab in various stages of deshabille, 
Aunt Apphia sank into a chair, caught me in 
her arms, and held me tight, while Aunt 
Jerry, quite enjoying her role as sensation- 
monger, poured forth the whole story. 

“ Why, haven^t you heard, Affie? Not a 
word? Oh, mercy, everybody in town knows 
it by this time? Poor old Uncle Ezra Parkins ! 
Somebody murdered him — murdered him — 
just think of it! right up there on the Witch 
Brook road — on the road to the mine — this 
morning or last night. Mr. Eli Lathers found 
the body on his way down to market this 
morning about five o’clock. It seems he 
lives in the first house after you turn off 
that road. It is in the town of Birchmont, 
he says. The Hickory line runs through his 
farm. Just think, a murder in Birchmont! 
Mother says there has never been such a thing 
since she was born. Oh, I do wish father 
would get up ! ” 

Did somebody shoot him?” asked Aunt 
Apphia, wide-eyed and trembling. 

“Who told you?” gurgled Aunt Leah be- 
tween chattering teeth. 

“ Have they found the murderer? ” de- 
i8o 


A Sensation 


manded Cousin Calista, shuddering like the 
rest of us. 

Such a blot on the fair fame of our 
town ! ’’ murmured grandmother, who only, in 
the general paralysis, retained presence of 
mind enough to take up the omelet, which she 
was now preparing, alone and unaided, to 
carry into the dining-room. “ Really, girls, 
you must get ready for breakfast. Shannah 
has made a fine shortcake, and here is this 
great omelet. Shannah, you must control 
yourself and bring in the coffee.” 

“Mercy! Who wants any breakfast?” 
wailed Aunt Leah. “ I’m afraid this will just 
about kill Elihu. I am going down there as 
soon as I can and see what sort of a night he 
has had.” 

“ Just as likely as not it may brace him right 
up and cure him,” suggested Cousin Calista 
comfortingly. 

“ Try to talk of cheerful things at break- 
fast,” counseled grandmother. “ I hear your 
father coming. You know how particular he 
is about such matters.” 

“ Oh, we must know all that Jerry heard ! ” 
insisted Cousin Calista. 

It seemed that Mr. Duncan Dart had passed 

i8i 


up the Witch Brook Road 


the house while Aunt Jerry — lucky mortal, in 
Cousin Calista^s opinion — had been sweeping 
off the front steps. He had stopped and told 
her the news. He said — all this was told 
after grandfather had entered the room, but 
before we had any of us tasted a mouthful of 
the good breakfast which was smoking itself 
away before us — that he had himself just 
seen Eli Lathers, who had sent several of the 
neighbors up to the Witch Brook road to view 
the body, before Mr. Trimble, who was the 
coroner, should order it removed. Dr. Bates, 
among others, had gone. Mr. Lathers said 
the old man looked as though somebody had 
killed him with a blow on the head, for his 
hair was full of blood and sand. 

‘‘Now I have something to tell you,” said 
Cousin Calista, trying to speak lightly, though 
her pale face showed that she was deeply 
moved. “ I saw that old man up there yes- 
terday. He was standing on the bridge over- 
Witch Brook. Mr. Perrine says they call it 
MerrilTs Bridge because a man named Gad 
Merrill owns the farm the brook runs through 
just there. I said to him, ‘ Aren^t you a long 
way from home, Uncle Ezra? ’ And he said, 
182 


A Sensation 


‘ I^m lookin^ for sympathy, Miss Calista. 
That^s all I want, a little mite sympathy/ 
And I said, ‘ Well, you have mine,^ and I gave 
him a piece of silver, I was so sorry for him ! 
You ought to have heard him thank me. And 
then he said, just as he is always saying, you 
know, ^ It’s a cold, cruel world. Miss Calista 
— cold and cruel — but the proud and haughty 
shall be brought low — that’s what the Good 
Book says. Miss Calista. Better be humble — 
be humble — for the proud and haughty shall 
be brought low ’ — and he was mumbling that 
over and over as far off as I could hear him.” 

‘‘ Did you see him at all on your way 
back?” asked my grandfather anxiously. 

“ No — o,” replied Cousin Calista confusedly. 
It had suddenly occurred to her that possibly 
grandfather had not heard of her eccentric 
trip to Hickory. No — o,” she repeated, pull- 
ing herself together, “ I was with Mr. Holly 
and Mr. Perrine — and we were laughing and 
talking — but we should have seen — anything 
— I am sure.” 

“ Who were last known to pass over the 
road?” demanded grandfather. 

“That’s a very disagreeable part of it,” 

183 


JJp the Witch Brook Road 


said Aunt Jerry. Mr. Dart said to me, 

^ Those young fellows who are working a mine 
on Jed Searses place was down to your house 
last night, wasn’t they? ’ And of course, I 
had to say they were. He asked me when 
they started for home — and I had to say that 
it must have been about ten o’clock. And he 
said that along in the night, — he should say 
it was after midnight — Eli Lathers had heard 
them pass his house, he was pretty sure. 
Somebody went by on horseback — two or three 
men — and they were laughing and talking. 
Mr. Lathers doesn’t like them very well, I 
fancy,” added Aunt Jerry. “ I didn’t like the 
way Mr. Dart said he spoke of them, — not at 
all.” 

My grandfather looked pale and sober. He 
instructed us, as grandmother had done, to 
talk about other things, and we made some 
sort of a breakfast, and then had family 
prayers, as usual. When grandfather came 
to the familiar petition about putting our 
hands to our mouths and our mouths in the 
dust, it seemed to me I had never fully under- 
stood it before, and that, for the first time, 
we were all of us really in that attitude before 
the Almighty. 

184 


A Sensation 


When he had straightened up the inverted 
chair before him, and looked at a letter which 
had arrived the day before, grandfather went 
out. 

“ You will come back as soon as you hear 
anything, won^t you, father? ” Aunt Apphia 
asked him. She had been out in the garden 
again, and her hands were full of gay flowers, 
but her cheeks were as white as chalk. 

Yes. I may go up to the place.’^ 

“ Do you think it looks very — very — bad — 
for — them, father? she faltered, as though 
she could not bear to voice the suspicion in 
her soul. 

If their tracks were the last over the road 
— yes,” answered grandfather slowly. “ They 
are not very popular with their neighbors, I 
fancy. We country people do not cotton 
readily to outsiders, especially if they belong 
to a different class from ourselves, and do not 
take pains to conceal the fact that they know 
it, and seem to consider themselves above us.” 

As he spoke, there came before me — and all 
the family confessed later that it had come 
before their minds also — a picture of George 
Holly, as he had stood out by the post on that 
day when Uncle Ezra had lifted the white 

185 


up the Witch Brook Road 


horse^s foot — the young man’s haughty air — 
the old imbecile scowling and shaking his fist, 
and the gaping knot of villagers looking on 
and listening. 


i86 


X 

A 

MYSTERIOUS IGNORANCE 


“ — the sky, which noticed all, made no disclosure, 
And the earth kept up her terrible composure.” 

Robert Browning. 




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CHAPTER X 


A Mysterious Ignorance 

I T was long after noon when grandfather re- 
turned. He had really been to the scene 
of the tragedy, a half-mile or so up the 
Witch Brook road from the point where it di- 
verged from the main highway along the river. 

The rest of us had scarcely spoken a word 
during his absence. Aunt Leah had been down 
to see Elihu and had found that, with rare 
good judgment on the part of the family, he 
had not yet been told of the terrible event 
which had so completely upset us all. He had 
passed a good night, his fever was gone, and 
the doctor said that by a week more he would 
probably be about again. My aunts and 
Cousin Calista, who divided the lighter house- 
hold duties systematically among themselves, 
arranged the east room and the parlor even 
more perfectly than ever, and instituted ab- 
solute order in every chamber in the house — 
and then we sat and waited breathlessly for 
189 


up the Witch Brook Road 


grandfather to come home. Cousin Calista 
suggested a trip to the village store for a 
spool of silk or some other equally unneces- 
sary merchandise; but grandmother, who had 
not been a lawyer^s wife thirty-five years for 
nothing, forbade her to leave the house. 

“ None of you had better go anywhere until 
Mr. Wells comes home and tells you just what 
to say and do,^^ she directed. “ This is a se- 
rious business — and one careless word may 
have grave results.” ' - 

This scared us all, and especially me. I 
clung closer than ever to Aunt Apphia, and 
a nameless terror seemed to be rising higher 
and higher in my breast — like a flood which 
was going presently to drown me. I felt half 
smothered. 

Elihu Trimble’s father was the coroner. 
He had a swift horse and a light buggy, and 
he had invited grandfather to drive up to 
Merrill’s Bridge with him. 

Grandfather looked years older than when 
he had started away. He sank heavily into 
the chair in front of the writing-table, and 
laid his hat abstractedly down on the mass 
of papers lying there. For a moment he 
seemed unequal to saying anything. 

190 


A Mysterious Ignorance 


Then he told us how far he had been and 
how he came to go, but that was all. 

What — what. — did you find out? ” stam- 
mered Aunt Apphia. 

Oh, no more — not much more ” — grand- 
father corrected himself — “ than Mr. Dart 
told Jerusha this morning. It seems that 
Mr. Lathers^s son whom he had sent back to 
his house to tell his family — the Lathers place 
is a half-mile or so, they tell me, from the 
spot wher? old Uncle Ezra was found — this 
son moved the body somewhat. You remem- 
ber that the old man had a great deal of bushy 
gray hair. His hair is full of sand and blood. 
The place beside the road where he was lying 
is very sandy. There was a bottle of cider- 
brandy, nearly empty, in his pocket. He had 
apparently been drinking, and had lain down 
to sleep beside the road. There either some- 
body struck him — or stepped on him — or — 
Grandfather paused. He was probably 
thinking — and the thought seemed to fiy into 
the minds of all of us — of the two careless 
young men riding home in the dark — then a 
crunch— perhaps a horror-stricken cry- 
then a failure to report anything— dark sus- 
picions of a criminally light valuation of a 
191 


up the Witch Brook Road 


human life, or worse — and then the enmity 
of the neighbors. I could not possibly have 
realized all this at that time as I did in after 
years, but an intuition of it seemed to pene- 
trate my soul, just as the keener knowledge 
of the affair in all its bearings sank into the 
consciousness of my grandfather^s family; 
and we all shook with the terror of it. 

Later, rumors of every description were 
flying around the village. We heeded grand- 
father's advice and kept closely at home, 
spending our time largely in the garden and 
orchard. There was to be a coroner^s in- 
quest on Saturday — the next day but one. 
Then the main facts would be brought out, 
and we should know certainly whether any- 
body was to be arrested for the murder. 

That night few people in town slept at all. 
It is impossible to realize at this time in the 
world what such an event as poor old Uncle 
Ezra’s murder was then to the dwellers in that 
isolated and peaceful community. It was at- 
tended with a horror and mystery which lasted 
through years — long after most of the actors in 
the little drama had passed from the stage. 

But something which at the time startled 
192 


A Mysterious Ignorance 


us almost as much as the first news of the 
crime itself occurred the next morning. 

We had all arisen early, nervous and un- 
refreshed, after the warm summer night. We 
had eaten our breakfast lifelessly, and all of 
the family were scattered about the house at- 
tending to their ordinary morning duties, 
when suddenly a familiar sound came in 
through the open windows. It was undoubt- 
edly the pounding of the feet of two horses on 
the bridge. Grandmother was making cur- 
rant jam and jelly, and Shannah, Aunt Ap- 
phia and I were helping her, but we all knew 
what was going to happen, even before the 
clang of the big brass knocker resounded 
through the house. Cousin Calista, who was 
as quick as a cat, was at the door before 
Shannah could so much as wash the currant- 
juice from her hands. 

Even Cousin Calista’s irrepressible spirits 
had been a good deal affected by the tragedy 
of which she had come so near to being a part, 
and she met our visitors with uncommon 
soberness. We heard Aunt Jerry and Aunt 
Leah join them, a little later, in the parlor. 
The doors were open quite through the house, 

193 


up the Witch Brook Road 


and only the dining-room and a short hall lay 
between us and them. Presently Aunt Leah 
rushed out and asked us if we were not coming 
in. 

“ I don^t see how I can come/’ replied grand- 
mother, looking around despairingly upon the 
heaps of currants. 

You will have to excuse us both,” said 
Aunt Apphia, stemming away rapidly at the 
fruit in a great bowl in her lap. 

I had been thinking the matter over and 
had decided that I would put on a clean apron 
and would go in with the others. Aunt Leah 
buttoned the apron for me, and presently we 
were sitting in our usual places in the parlor, 
making excuses for grandmother and Aunt 
Apphia. 

The conversation was not lively. Every- 
body talked in a slightly subdued tone, and 
when we entered, it was easy to see that noth- 
ing had yet been said concerning the topic 
which occupied all of our minds. The 
weather had been under discussion, and 
Elihu’s probably speedy recovery. I noticed 
— or thought I did — that Mr. George Holly’s 
face fell a trifle when Aunt Leah said that 
Aunt Apphia was immersed, as it were, in 
194 


A Mysterious Ignorance 


currant- juice, and must be excused — but 
everything else was absolutely commonplace. 
The tones of the young men, however, were 
as cheerful as ever, while ours were decidedly 
doleful. 

“ Very well, then,” remarked Kichard Per- 
rine. Everything seems to be favorable to 
our plan. We have been looking the ground 
over, and we think that, if Mr. Trimble im- 
proves as fast as you expect, you may all be 
able to visit our place by next week. We 
came down this morning on purpose to have 
you set a day. We wish to show the mine to 
you and a good many other things. It needs 
time here to get ready, we find, and we hope 
you will set a day at once. The weather is 
just right now for picnics. What do you say. 
Miss Jerry?” 

(Cousin Calista flushed angrily. Why 
should he have appealed to Aunt Jerry instead 
of to her?) 

Aunt Jerry’s beautiful eyes seemed to cloud 
over with a sort of fear. She evidently did 
not notice the discrimination which had been 
instituted between her and Cousin Calista. 
She was thinking of something else. Aunt 
Leah paled a little, too. The thought of 

195 


up the Witch Brook Road 


merry-making fitted ill with the ghastly spec- 
ters of the last few hours. 

Do — do — ^you think,” began Aunt Jerry 
in confusion, “ that — that we had better plan 
for any picnics — or parties of any sort just 
now? ” 

‘‘Just now?” inquired George Holly, in a 
startled way. “ Why not just now? ” 

“ Why, all this that has happened has made 
us perfectly wretched, as you can understand. 
Mr. Trimble, of course, under the circum- 
stances, feels it especially, and Elihu will, as 
soon as they tell him. He will have to be 
told to-morrow, but his room is in a distant 
part of the house and they have thought best 
as yet not to let him know anything about 
it.” 

“ About it? ” gasped Kichard Perrine. 
“ Really, it must be something that we ought 
to know, probably, but we do not. We did 
not know that anything sad had happened. I 
hope Mr. Trimble has not had trouble in his 
family.” 

Both of the young men were leaning for- 
ward in their chairs. Their faces were 
strained, and they were looking from one to 
196 


A Mysterious Ignorance 


another of my aunts in apparently complete 
bewilderment. 

Aunt Leah gave a little shriek. 

You don’t know ! ” cried Cousin Calista, 

“ And you haven’t heard of the — murder? ” 
breathed Aunt Jerry, staring into their eyes, 
as if she were incapable of believing that such 
ignorance could exist. 

“Murder!” they both ejaculated together. 

There was an instant’s pause. Then George 
Holly drew a long breath and said, “ The idea 
of a murder is so utterly incongruous with 
this place that it seems even more shocking 
than it would in the city, or among different 
surroundings anywhere. I don’t wonder that 
you do not feel like picnicking. You must 
pardon us.” 

“ I hope it is not anybody whom you cared 
about,” ventured Richard Perrine. 

The cool impersonality of these words, the 
indubitable sincerity of their professions of 
ignorance, completed our stupefaction. These 
young men had, somehow or other, failed to 
hear anything concerning the tragedy which 
had occurred so near them. We could hardly 
credit the evidence of our own senses. 

197 


up the Witch Brook Road 


Why — why — it happened yesterday morn- 
ing before daylight,” stammered Aunt Jerry, 
instinctively avoiding the details which would 
most startle her hearers. 

“ Not far from your house,” added Cousin 
Calista. 

‘‘Who was it?” demanded George Holly, 
quickly. 

“ Old Uncle Ezra Parkins,” she ans- 
wered. 

“ That was the old man,” explained Aunt 
Leah, with the faintest possible shade of re- 
proach in her tone, “ who lifted your horse’s 
foot that day — don’t you reai ember? ” 

“ Oh — it was that poor old duffer, was it? ” 
commented George Holly, with an air of re- 
lief. “ Well — murder is an awful thing, but 
the community can better support the loss of 
an old idiot like him than of somebody who 
is of any use.” 

“ Oh, but there are dreadful circumstances 
” began Aunt Jerry. 

Both of the young men looked at her with 
eyes full of acute interest — but she paused and 
could not go on. 

“ I can’t understand how you happened not 
to know ! ” breathed Cousin Calista. 

198 


A Mysterious Ignorance 


“ Why, it is simple enough, explained 
Kichard Perrine. Old Jed never goes to the 
village — nor anywhere else off his farm, if he 
can help it — except on Saturdays. We are 
a half-mile or more from the regular road — 
the Witch Brook road — as you will see when 
you come up there. Our house is in plain 
sight from that road — but we are perched on 
a hillside a full half-mile away from it. Men 
who happen to be going along the regular road 
can’t call out to us, nor very conveniently stop 
to tell us anything. Then our mine is more 
than a mile back in the woods below the 
house. Thursday morning, we went off to 
the mine very early. Our men up there live 
in a shanty close by. Two of them are mar- 
ried. They live ten miles or more away — 
they are brothers; brothers by blood, and 
brothers in intellectual density; but they can 
handle a pick and shovel. They go home over 
Sunday. The others stay at the shanty all 
the while, unless they come down to the vil- 
lage of a Saturday night We worked hard 
all day — you know we have a laboratory up 
there, a rude one, and this morning we 
thought we would come down and propose a 
picnic to you. We think your father and all 
199 


up the Witch Brook Road 


of you will be interested in some experiments 
which we — especially George here — have been 
making.” 

“ It would be very nice,” murmured Cousin 
Calista, but Uncle Wells might say we 
oughtn’t to go — ^just yet.” 

It would seem a little shocking, don’t you 
think? ” added Aunt Leah. “ Of course, this 
is a terrible thing for Birchmont. It hap- 
pened right near the Hickory border — ^but still 
it was a Birchmont man, and it happened in 
Birchmont — and nothing like it was ever 
known here before. It has affected my father 
very much.” 

Have they caught the murderer? ” in- 
quired George Holly. 

No — o,” stammered Aunt Jerry. 

The embarrassed consciousness of her man- 
ner could not fail to impress them. It was 
almost painful. 

Perhaps it is not known who did it. But 
somebody is usually suspected. How is it in 
this case?” inquired Richard Perrine, in an 
altered voice. 

“ No, nobody is suspected ; not really sus- 
pected,” answered Aunt Jerry, with agitated 
insistence. 


200 


A Mysterious Ignorance 


“Not really suspected?’^ repeated he, 
slowly. “ Is anybody even a little sus- 
pected? ” 

“ Let me tell you all about it,” began Cousin 
Calista, with decision. “ You will have to 
hear about it soon, and we might as well tell 
you. Mr. Eli Lathers — you know him — was 
coming down to market early Thursday morn- 
ing — it was about four o’clock — with his son, 
when he saw this heap of something Ijdng 
beside the road. It is a shady place, but the 
bank is sandy. I noticed that place when I 
rode past it — and you must know it well. 
Gravel and sand for building have been dug 
from it. Uncle Wells says. It can’t be half a 
mile from Merrill’s Bridge. I know I met 
you that day not far from that spot. It was 
just before we reached Eli Lathers’s place, you 
told me. 

“ Well,” went on Cousin Calista, who dearly 
loved to be the center of interest, and vho 
was now receiving that breathless attention 
which w^e all desire when we fall to story-tell- 
ing : “ Mr. Lathers rode right along, at first. 
Then he said it came over him that that was a 
queer-looking thing back there in the sand- 
heap, so he pulled up and went back to look 
201 


up the Witch Brook Road 


at it. Then he saw it was old Uncle Ezra, 
cold in death, and with his hair full of blood 
and sand. Mr. Lathers sent his son back to 
the house to tell the family there, and to get 
his other son to come and stay beside the body. 
He had told them not to touch it, but it seems 
that they did drag it further away from the 
road. They said they were afraid somebody 
might run over it.” 

The old man had been drinking, prob- 
ably,” said George Holly, tentatively. 

“ Yes, he smelled strongly of liquor, and 
there was a bottle in his pocket, with a little 
cider-brandy in it.” 

‘‘ Dick,” burst forth George Holly sud- 
denly, “ that old man must have been lying 
there when we rode home the other night from 
here. Don’t you remember that I remarked, 
while we were riding in the shadow of those 
woods, that that thing beside the road looked 
like a man? ” 

“ He must have been pretty much gone 
then,” rejoined Richard Perrine, for that 
thing never stirred — and I told you it looked to 
me more like a heap of stones. But now that I 
think of it, I remember that there never were 
any stones there.” 


202 


A Mysterious Ignorance 


Perhaps he had been murdered even 
then,” suggested George Holly, with a shud- 
der. Neither one of the young men had 
grasped the fact that this affair was of vital 
interest to them. 

At that instant quick steps sounded on the 
path, and my grandfather came swinging 
breathlessly in. 

Oh ! ” he exclaimed, almost awkwardly, 
and giving a start, as he saw that we had 
visitors, and who those visitors were. Then 
he paused, collected himself, and advanced to 
shake hands with them in his ordinary, self- 
possessed manner. 

I was just about to dispatch a messenger 
up to your place, gentlemen,” he said in a 
rather worried tone. “ The body of old Uncle 
Ezra was brought down yesterday afternoon, 
and deposited at his sister^s. He has lived 
with his sister ever since he lost his wits. Dr. 
Bates, and the doctor from Hickory have ex- 
amined the wound on his head. They say — 

^ell ” he paused and looked fixedly and 

sympathizingly into the faces of the two 
young men — “ they don’t just know what to 
say, it seems; but, anyway, there is to be 
coroner’s inquest at the Town Hall to-mor- 
203 


Vp the Witch Brook Road 


row, and you are wanted as witnesses. Be 
seated, gentlemen. I don’t see how you 
reached here without meeting us. Oh — it 
must have been while we were talking in the 
Lathers house.” 

As they sat down, George Holly remarked, 
with a little hauteur in his manner, ‘‘ We 
shall take pains to be present. As we did not 
know anything about the whole matter until 
we rode down this morning, we can hardly 
hope to shed much light on the case, but ” 

“ What did you say? You didn’t know 
anything about it till this morning? ” de- 
manded grandfather, in a stunned way. 

They hadn’t heard a word, father ! ” cried 
Aunt Jerry, breathlessly. “ They didn’t even 
know there had been a murder.” 

Then you have not heard, perhaps,” said 
my grandfather, with the sort of sternness 
which a surgeon uses when he is probing for a 
bullet which must be found in order to save 
a life, “ you may not have heard that the 
tracks of your horses were the latest ones 
which passed over the road on Thursday 
night. You are the persons who were last 
seen in the vicinity of the murder.” 


204 


A WORRIED HOUSEHOLD 


**Thou deem’st th3^self a king — poor, crazy elf! — 
Chained to the wall of that cramped cell — thyself!” 

From the wall of a Pompeian home. 




CHAPTER XI 


A W ^rried Household 

T he faces of both of the young men 
underwent an almost distressing 
change. For a moment there was 

silence. 

Then George Holly began : No, we had 
not thought of the matter; we have only just 
heard of it, you know, and we have not yet 
grasped it in all its bearings. It is quite 
reasonable that our horses should have been 
the last known to have passed that place — 
for it must have been after midnight when we 
entered the Witch Brook road. It was after 
ten when we left your house here. We did 
not hurry. It was a fine night, and we en- 
joyed our ride.’’ 

Suddenly Cousin Calista began to cry. 

It was all my fault ! ” she sobbed brokenly. 
You would never have got into this trouble 
if it had not been for me ! ” 

My grandfather, who was sitting next to 
207 


up the Witch Brook Road 


her, drew her head over on his shoulder, with 
comforting words, while the young men 
hastened to reassure her — but in my soul I 
was raging and fuming. Yes, it was just as 
she said. If these dear young friends of ours 
were put into prison, it would be her fault. 
And how hard Aunt Apphia had tried not to 
have her go! 

When she had regained her composure, 
though she was still a good deal shaken, 
George Holly turned to my grandfather and 
asked, Though it is perfectly reasonable that 
people should think we might have been the 
last persons to pass over the road, still, I do 
not see how they could tell the tracks of our 
horses from any others.” 

‘‘ You will remember that old Uncle Ezra 
said that one of your horses had a defective 
shoe. Several of the village men were near by 
at the time when he lifted your horse^s foot, 
and remarked the fault in the shoe. The print 
of a horse-shoe, with that very fault in it, is 
found clearly marked here and there along 
the road. The Lathers boys insist that it lay 
very near the body, when they first found it — 
but it is sandy there — and there had been a 
good deal of wind, and scores of tracks were 
208 


A Worried Household 


all around there in a confused jumble, prob- 
ably.” 

“ Yes; yes, sir,” said George Holly, perfectly 
respectful, but evidently acutely annoyed. 
“ Did they suggest that the man might have 
been killed by a blow from the foot of one of 
our horses? ” 

That is one of the theories,” admitted my 
grandfather, apparently relieved to have the 
whole matter laid bare. Then, again, the 
doctors allow that the wound might have been 
caused by a blow of some club or other blunt 
implement. One side of the skull is quite 
crushed in.” 

“If it had been done by a horse, I should 
think the shape of the wound would show it,” 
suggested Richard Perrine. 

“ It looks more like that than like anything 
else,” said my grandfather. “ But the old 
man had a very thick and shaggy head of hair, 
and he had apparently moved somewhat after 
he was hurt, for his head was half-buried in 
the sand. Why, it was a moonlight night; you 
must have been able to see as you rode along. 
You didn’t happen to notice anything just 
there, did you? ” 

“ Yes, I did,” admitted George Holly. I 
209 


up the Witch Brook Road 


am perfectly confident that neither one of us 
stepped on the old man, because I called my 
friend’s attention to a black bunch of some- 
thing lying on the sand a few feet from the 
road. I said, ^ That looked like a man, back 
there,’ but he insisted that it was merely a 
heap of brush or stones.” 

“ That sounds promising,” said my grand- 
father, more cheerfully than he had yet 
spoken. “ I am glad you are so positive about 
that. Still, you are strangers, and you know 
strangers are not always treated as well as 
old neighbors.” 

I think we are rather disliked by our 
Hickory fellow-citizens,” laughed George 
Holly, a trifle bitterly. “We have never done 
anything to provoke their hostility, but, on the 
other hand, we have let them so severely alone 
that perhaps they have imagined that we have 
felt contempt for them. We treat them just 
as we are accustomed to treat those whom we 
casually meet in the city, but I imagine coun- 
try people wish one to affect an interest in 
them, whether one really feels any or not. 
However, I don’t see what difference it can 
make in this case how we are regarded by our 


210 


A Worried Household 


neighbors. The facts must stand for them- 
selves.” 

My grandfather smiled a gray, worried sort 
of smile. 

I hope there will be no trouble,” he said 
wearily. I fortunately am not to preside 
at the inquest. My friend, ’Squire Wing, 
from the county town, has engaged to do that. 
Now it is too bad for you to go back to Hickory 
to-night,” he continued hospitably. “ I beg 
that you will spend the time here with us. 
In fact,” he went on musingly, “ you really 
ought to spend two days here. The funeral 
is to take place on Sunday afternoon, and, 
under the circumstances, you had better at- 
tend it. Don’t you think so? Now, I beg you, 
gentlemen, to make my house your headquar- 
ters. Remain with us until Sunday night. 
Remember that I am a life-long resident here, 
and have the confidence of the people. It may 
— I should hope that it would — prevent invidi- 
ous remarks, possibly ward off something 
worse, if you should be known to be stopping 
here.” 

George Holly sprang up and seized my 
grandfather’s hand. He had seemed to take 

2II 


up the Witch Brook Road 


all these strange disclosures with equanimity, 
but it was plain now that he had been more 
moved than he had cared to reveal. 

Thank you, thank you, Mr. Wells,” he 
said, with feeling. “ I can’t tell you how we 
thank you. Your plan is a wise one, and it 
would be most agreeable, but Dick here will 
corroborate me when I say that our mining 
operations just now require our presence 
in Hickory. We will be back early in the 
morning, and remain for the funeral, and 
then ” 

“We shall be most happy and grateful if 
you will let us take our dinners with you.” 
Kichard Perrine finished the sentence. 

It was plain that the young men did not 
like to place themselves under such obliga- 
tions to us as to stay with us during the whole 
of the two days which they were to spend in 
the village. My grandfather was able to 
recommend the Birchmont tavern, “ The Two 
Oaks,” and they rode off, promising to be back 
at nine o’clock the next morning. The inquest 
was set for ten. 

As they bade us good-bye, they said, “ There 
should, of course, be no picnics at present. 
It is no wonder that you were shocked. And 


212 


A Worried Household 


we do not see, any more than you, how we 
could have helped hearing about it all.” 

Kichard Perrine added, in further apology 
(and possibly in order to give an edge 
to our appetite for the excursion to the mine, 
when it should be judged expedient), You 
see, we begin to feel as though we were 
getting into your debt so deeply that we 
might never be able to show you adequately 
how much we appreciate all that you have done 
for us. We have some plans for our picnic 
which we hope will be something new to you 
— and as my father is an India merchant, we 
hope to have, when certain boxes arrive which 
have been sent for, a few little things to eat 
which will amuse you, even if you don’t like 
them very well.” 

“ Oh, how fine ! ” cried Cousin Calista, shak- 
ing her yellow curls. 

I wondered privately if she had not made 
up on purpose all of her remorse for having 
been the means of getting our young miners 
into such a peck of trouble ; but this was very 
mean in me. My grandfather cherished no 
such unworthy suspicion. As she spoke, he 
drew her to him, and passed his arm affection- 
ately around her. 


213 


up the Witch Brook Road 


The last thing which was said, as the young 
men stood on the steps shaking hands with 
grandfather, was a low word by Mr. Holly, 
which showed how thoroughly he compre- 
hended the situation. 

“ You do not consider, sir, that there is any 
danger of arrest for us? ” 

I don’t know,” my grandfather answered, 
in a voice which grew hoarse and troubled as 
he went on. You had better — well — be — not 
effusive and not on any account unduly talka- 
tive, but rather — well — pleasant — civil — to 
every one you meet. There is an idea on the 
part of some of our people that you hold your- 
selves — you will excuse me for speaking 
frankly — above us.” 

George Holly flushed, but thanked him re- 
spectfully. Kichard Perrine flushed, too, all 
over his smooth-shaven face, and laughed, in 
a boyish way that he often had — and said, 
“ You don’t say so! Well, that is great! ” 

To tell the truth, it was not he, so much as 
his graver and prouder friend, who had 
offended our simple Birchmonters. 

Grandmother and Aunt Apphia had heard 
through the half-open parlor door nearly every 
214 


A Worried Household 


word that had been said. When we came out, 
we found them pale and half-fainting. 

“ Father,” began Aunt Apphia, in a strained 
and miserable voice, “ what is the outlook? 
What do you think? ” 

He passed his arm around her and kissed 
her on the forehead. Aunt Jerry threw her- 
self on the sofa and frankly burst into tears. 
I was by this time, seeing their wretchedness, 
sobbing drily and shaking with an unknown 
dread. I clung dumbly to Aunt Apphia^s 
skirts. 

“ You don’t think they could — they couldn’t 
possibly arrest — there isn’t any case — what do 
you think, Mr. Wells?” stammered grand- 
mother. 

Even if they had stepped on that old idiot, 
I don’t see what they could do about it — the 
law, I mean. They weren’t to blame because 
he got drunk and went to sleep close by the 
road,” cried Cousin Calista, harshly. 

“ But you know such things are sometimes 
done with malicious intent,” grandfather re- 
minded her. If that could be proved ” 

'<Oh, but it couldn’t be!” exclaimed Aunt 
Jerry. 


215 


up the Witch Brook Road 


« Why, they said they knew they didn’t step 
on him,” echoed Aunt Leah. 

“ They seem perfectly innocent,” com- 
mented grandfather, with a sober and reprov- 
ing calmness. But you must remember that 
they have taken no pains to make friends here. 
Indeed, some of the people think they have 
tried to show how little they care for the opin- 
ion of Hickory and Birchmont, — though you 
and I know that is unjust. Still, their ways 
are not as our ways, — and you can readily see 
that those ways might be called supercilious 
and lordly by people whom they pass by with 
as little notice as though those others were, 
as the saying is, the dust beneath their feet. 
I find there is a very bitter feeling against 
them throughout the entire neighborhood. In- 
deed, Mr. Trimble says he has not heard a 
kind word said of them, — except by me.” 

There was a moment’s silence. None of us 
had thought that things could be so bad. 

“ But if they had, either of them, stepped 

on — anything like that ” began Aunt Ap- 

phia, “ they — they would surely know it.” 

There was a note of defiance in her tone. 

“ Sometimes,” remarked my grandfather 
grimly, “men are in a condition, especially 
216 


A Worried Household 


late at night, when they do not know whether 
they step on things or not.” 

Aunt Apphia gave a little shriek. 

“ You don’t imagine that they — they — 
drink, father? ” 

I may not, — yet, after all, what do I know 
about their habits? Sometimes men’s faces 
give no sign, even when they are drunkards. 
And again, even abstemious and temperate 
men occasionally take too much, — especially 
when they are off in the wilds and think no- 
body will know it.” 

I shall never, never think that they were 
in such a condition that night that they did 
not know what they were doing,” declared 
Aunt Apphia passionately. 

But certain others might,” grandfather 
reminded her. 

^^Will such questions be raised at the in- 
quest? ” she inquired in distress. 

They certainly will.” 

“ Oh, you will see ’Squire Wing beforehand, 
— and tell him all about them — won’t you, 
father? ” breathed Aunt Apphia. Tell him 
how they saved Barbara’s life, — and mine. 
You will, won’t you? ” 

I thought that she was going to burst into 
217 


up the Witch Brook Road 


tears, but she did not. Aunt Jerry was doing 
the crying for the whole family. Now she 
looked up from her very moist pillow and de- 
manded cogently, Well, — what can they 
do, — what is the worst that they can do, — 
supposing they prove, or think they prove, that 
Mr. Holly or Mr. Perrine really did step on 
Uncle Ezra? ” 

“ I haven’t made sure,” grandfather an- 
swered slowly. The intention would count 
for a good deal. If anybody can prove that 
either of the young men felt any malice to- 
ward Uncle Ezra, — or that he had any motive 
for riding his horse over him, — why, it might 
go pretty hard with him.” 

A little later we all sat down to a sad and 
gloomy dinner. The currants proved to be the 
family salvation. 

It is folly for us to give up in this way,” 
declared my grandmother, bustling about 
after our brief meal was over. “ Here are piles 
and piles of beautiful fruit, — and we must get 
them put up. We virtually wasted the whole 
morning. If we all take hold together, we 
shall not any more than get them out of the 
way by supper-time. Jerry and Calista, you 
need not change your gowns. Put on your 
218 


A Worried Household 


large aprons and get this bowlful of currants 
stemmed as fast as possible.” 

The currants calmed us more effectually 
than anything else could possibly have done. 
The afternoon passed rapidly, and that night 
we all rested fairly well. 

The day of the inquest I have heard called 
by the oldest inhabitants,” the most exciting 
in the history of the town of Birchmont. 
Surely I have never thought of it since with- 
out a quicker beating of heart and acute tin- 
gling of my nerves. 

It was a beautiful July day, and even before 
daylight the street was full of teams. The 
farmers from every town within twenty miles 
were gathered to listen to what was expected 
to be the most sensational trial which had 
ever taken place within our borders. Horses 
were hitched along almost the whole length of 
every fence in the village. Yet there was no 
sound of loud talking, hardly of common con- 
versation. The air seemed charged with elec- 
tricity. It was reported that thirty or forty 
witnesses were to be examined, and that things 
would be said of which as yet the public had 
no conception. 

When I had gone to bed on the evening be- 
219 


up the Witch Brook Road 


fore, it had been decided that I was not to 
attend the inquest, and grandmother had in- 
tended to stay at home with me. Indeed, I 
had understood at that time that grandfather 
would not allow any of us to go. 

It is too shocking a story for you to hear,” 
he had concluded. I cannot bear the thought 
of having you among that vulgar crowd.” 

Our breakfast was uncommonly early, and 
after that there was a reconsideration. 

“We could scarcely hear anything more 
shocking than what we have heard already,” 
Aunt Apphia reminded him. 

“ It seems to me that, if anybody ought to 
know all about it, we ought to,” remarked 
Cousin Calista, with an air of determination 
which boded ill for grandfather. 

“ I think our being there will help a little — 
they say friends in court do affect the atmos- 
phere,” urged Aunt Jerry. 

Elihu had been informed of everything by 
this time. Indeed, he had gained so fast that 
he was almost well. If the doctor had not in- 
terfered, he might have attempted to attend 
the inquest himself. 

“ Elihu wants me to go,” pleaded Aunt 
Leah. “ He says nobody tells him about 


220 


A Worried Household 


things so well as I do. He says he never shall 
know much about it unless I go and describe 
it for him.^^ 

“If the girls all go,” remarked grand- 
mother, with dignity, “ the only proper way 
would be for me to accompany them.” 

Shannah had been moving in and out of the 
room, on one pretense or another. Now she 
turned and added decidedly, “ Indade, and me 
not gettin’ the better of this dreadful, venom- 
ous, lame?itable business these three days now, 
Mrs. Wells! Sure, faith, an’ it’s afther goin’ 
I must be — to quiet me narves like, Mrs. 
Wells. An’ I can’t get the better of it 
until it’s all about it thot I know — an’ me 
cousin in Wilkinsville thot crazy to hear it all 
thot it’s a letther she wrote me, for to foind 
out all about it. An’ I must be afther goin’ 
to the inquest up to the Town Hall, an’ sit 
wid the young ladies, if they wud be that kind 
to let me.” 

“ And have I got to st — t — ay all al — lone? ” 
I blubbered, seeing resolve written plainly on 
every one of the faces around me. 

My poor grandfather demurred, and tried to 
argue the case a little, but even grandmother 
was against him, and every team that rattled 
221 


up the Witch Brook Road 


by seemed to add to the intense desire to go, 
on the part of every one of us. Of course, in 
the end we all went, and my grandfather 
managed to get good seats for us. 

We were early in -our places. I can feel to 
this moment the almost intolerable strain of 
the occasion. Soon all around and behind us 
the seats were crowded. Even the benches 
reserved for the witnesses were filled, except 
for a little space, which we could see plainly, 
since it was very near us. We knew that this 
little space was kept for Mr. Holly and Mr. 
Perrine. The awful thought occurred to me, 
what if they should not come? Then I pic- 
tured them, in my unreasonable little mind, as 
pursued by the sheriff, as a horse-thief in town 
had once been. He had been run down by the 
dogs, and brought back, crestfallen and plas- 
tered with mud, and I had seen him go by. The 
very idea of such degradation and humilia- 
tion, as connected with the young miners 
whom I so much loved, froze the blood in my 
little veins. 


223 


XII 


THE INQUEST 

** — pale mistrust 
Wrinkled each brow.” 


Akennde, 



CHAPTER XII 


The Inquest 

A t last, some minutes after the hands 
on the great clock in front had 
marked the hour set for beginning, 
the important men of the occasion came in. 
They advanced toward the front, pushing their 
way through the throng, which by this time 
occupied every available inch of space in the 
house. Men and boys were even climbing in 
through the windows, which were not many 
feet above the ground. First came Mr. Trim- 
ble, who was a big, fussy-looking man. He 
had an air as if he were managing the affairs 
of the universe. Then came grandfather’s 
friend, ’Squire Wing — a spare, severe-looking 
gentleman, whose appearance did not reas- 
sure me concerning the fate of my idolized 
friends. A jury of six had been summoned by 
the sheriff (if my memory serves me rightly 
concerning the customs of those days, which 
differed materially from those of the present 
time) . They were plain, but, it seemed to me, 
225 


up the Witch Brook Road 


rather harsh-looking farmers, one of whom 
was our old friend Jonas Beals, and all of 
whose faces were familiar to me. Then came 
the sheriff himself ; and, last of all, looking to 
my admiring eyes like angels dropped among 
creatures of a very different sort, were Mr. 
Holly and Mr. Perrine, immaculately dressed, 
as usual, and carrying themselves with their 
usual dignity and self-possession. 

As these personages trooped in, the house 
was painfully still, until our special friends 
appeared. Then a buzzing arose on all sides, 
and there was a general craning of necks. I 
felt myself growing hot with anger — for there 
was a note of spite and criticism in the con- 
fusion of sounds — and I thought my indignant 
heart would burst, when somebody near us 
whispered shrilly, “ They thought they^d bet- 
ter keep nigh the sheriff — and, by gosh, they 
was wise.” 

The first witness to be examined was a cer- 
tain Joel Larkin, who lived in the last Birch- 
mont house before the main road crosses 
Witch Brook. He testified that the old man 
had stopped at his door “ on the shank o^ the 
evenin’ ; ” that Mrs. Larkin had given him a 
cup of milk and a cracker ; that he had thanked 
226 


The Inquest 


her, and that he had later sat a half-hour or 
more on the doorstep, braiding away at his 
never-ending whip-lash. Then he had said 
that he wanted sympathy — all he wanted 
was sympathy,’^ and had risen and wandered 
off in the gloaming. No one could be found 
who had seen him alive after this. Joel Larkin 
denied that he had given Uncle Ezra the cider- 
brandy. He was sure none of his family 
could have done it.” A ripple of incredulous 
laughter ran around the room when this bit 
of testimony was handed in. Joel Larkin was 
an intemperate and notoriously untruthful 
man, as I afterward learned. His word was 
therefore considered worthless on such mat- 
ters as selling liquor ; but he was kindhearted, 
and nobody for an instant suspected that he 
had done any intentional harm — as he under- 
stood harm — to the poor old man. 

Then Eli Lathers was called, and told the 
tale of the finding of the body — a tale by this 
time familiar, down to the most trivial detail, 
to every person present, but all listened to 
its reiteration with breathless attention. He 
said that there had been no money in the old 
man’s pocket. Joel Larkin had also testified 
that, though naturally he had not searched 
227 


up the Witch Brook Road 


Uncle Ezra’s pockets, he had seen no signs of 
money about him, and he did not believe that 
he had any. 

As Uncle Ezra’s sister had given him no 
money, and believed that he had none, the 
question of how he paid for his fatal dram 
was, as I afterward learned, a great puzzle to 
the lawyers, until later, when grandfather ex- 
plained the matter to them. Cousin Calista 
might have enlightened them earlier, if grand- 
father had allowed her to testify. Cider- 
brandy is an expensive luxury. Where did 
Uncle Ezra get that bottleful which had been 
his ruin? Joel Larkin probably lied when he 
said that he gave the old man only a cup of 
milk and a cracker, — but he was not the sort 
of person to be dealing out cider-brandy gratis. 
The bottle, with a few teaspoonfuls of the 
liquor still remaining in it, was produced at 
the inquest. It was a coarse, unmarked vial, 
holding perhaps a pint. The old man had 
been very thin, and his clothes had hung on 
him as if he had been what is called a broom- 
stick scarecrow.” He was constantly stuffing 
all sorts of trash into his pockets, so that he 
might have carried several bottles like this 
without attracting any attention whatever. 

228 


The Inquest 


The two doctors testified that, though he 
was probably unconscious at the time, he came 
to his death through a blow on the head, 
caused by some person or other creature un- 
known. The most careful examination, they 
said, had failed to indicate the nature of this 
blow. In order, apparently, to excuse them- 
selves for their indefiniteness, they dwelt at 
length upon the thickness of the old man^s 
gray hair and the softness and fineness of the 
sand in which he was lying, and which, as one 
of them said, “ had been very abundantly scat- 
tered, either accidentally or purposely, over 
the wound.” 

As the doctor uttered the word purposely,” 
he laid considerable emphasis on it, and, pos- 
sibly without intention, looked in the direc- 
tion of Mr. Holly and Mr. Perrine. Both of 
them colored, Mr. Holly fiercely. Aunt Ap- 
phia saw it all, as I could tell from the shudder 
which ran through her body, against which I 
was closely pressed. She leaned forward, and 
for an instant I almost thought that she was 
going to spring up and say something; but 
soon she settled back again and looked as calm 
as ever. 

A score or more of witnesses simply con- 
229 


up the Witch Brook Road 


firmed various portions of the well-known 
story. The whole scene was a brief, rude and 
unpoetic sort of version of “ The Ring and the 
Book.” I was nearly asleep, under the influ- 
ence of the heat, the long strain and all, when 
a sudden interest was roused in me by hear- 
ing a witness say, Oh, yes — ^it was the horses 
of the young fellers who are working a mine 
up to Jed Sears’s place. There ain’t no doubt 
o’ that. One on ’em had that queer place in 
the shoe that Uncle Ezry saw himself when 
he was walkin’ round the village one day.” 

The witness was the son of Eli Lathers, who 
had been left in charge of the body while his 
father had gone on to the village. 

I set there an’ set there,” he testified. 
‘‘ There warn’t nothin’ to do but to look at the 
tracks — not for fifteen minutes or more — an’ 
I studied ’em over an’ over. Our team had 
been along late in the afternoon. Then Jed 
Sears’s colts had been down to the sawmill, 
hitched into his big lumber wagon. The tires 
are dretful wide, an’ the’ was a tremenjus 
heavy load, so they sunk in uncommon deep. 
Then the’ hadn’t been no other team along. 
The’ was a big doo — I never see a bigger doo — 
an’ right on top o’ this doo the’ was the tracks; 

230 


The Inquest 


o’ the white horse an’ the bay, that them 
minin’ fellers rides. I follered them tracks 
both ways — oh, a good many rods — and all the 
time the’ was this bad place in one o’ the 
shoes.” 

How close did the tracks come to the body 
of the murdered man? ” inquired ’Squire 
Wing. 

Pretty dost,” said the boy, shaking his 
head wisely, while we all held our breath. 

They was kind o’ queer and jammed in and 
circlin’ round jest there, and it was so sandy 
that they wasn’t so plain there as they was 
up an’ down the road a ways — but I could tell 
enough to see that they come dretful dost.” 

So close that they might have stepped on 
the body? ” 

“ I should say they did,” assented the boy. 

Oh, yes, they did, fast enough.” 

My Aunt Apphia muttered under her breath, 

What a falsehood!” and Aunt Jerry and 
Cousin Calista looked at each other darkly; 
but a sensation of another sort seemed to run 
through the great room. It was plain that 
the boy’s story confirmed the theory held by 
the vast majority of those who were present. 
No other witnesses but this boy and his 
231 


up the Witch Brook Road 


brother had been able to say anything authori- 
tative concerning the tracks in the road, for, 
as soon as the alarm was given, such throngs 
assembled on the scene that the sand was 
overturned in every direction. 

Several had testified to hearing the young 
men go by their houses about midnight, but 
no one accused them of loud talking or other 
unseemly noise, except Eli Lathers, who was 
called back again after his boy had testified, 
in order that he might verify what had been 
said regarding the tracks. He refused to 
swear that the tracks lay dost ” beside the 
body. He “ hadn^t noticed, he was so scart.” 
But he had noticed the passing of the young 
men that night, and he said ill-naturedly that 
they “ fairly woke him out o’ sound sleep, with 
their hollerin’ and carryin’ on.” 

Did you suspect at the time that they had 
been drinking too much? ” 

“Wal — I did ruther. Square — it did look 
kinder that way.” 

The last witnesses called were the two 
young men, and it was upon them, of course, 
that the chief interest centered. 

Though they were, as I have said, carefully 
232 


The Inquest 


and rather elegantly attired, they had evi- 
dently taken pains to avoid wearing anything 
in the least showy. Their faces were pale and 
grave, and seemed to me to bear such a stamp 
of refinement and goodness that I could not 
believe anybody, seeing them, could possibly 
accuse them of such misdemeanors as were 
apparently to be laid to their charge. 

George Holly was the first to be called. He 
mounted the platform with his usual dignity, 
and took his seat opposite ’Squire Wing. 
After he had been sworn and had given his 
name, he gave his address as at a certain num- 
ber on a Boston street, and I heard grand- 
father whisper to Aunt Apphia, from his seat 
on the other side of her. Oh-h, I wish he had 
said he lived at Jed Sears’s.” 

But he had to give what you call his vot- 
ing residence — hadn’t he, father? ” 

Grandfather mumbled a reluctant, “ Per- 
haps so,” and the examination proceeded. 

Your business? ” 

I am a mining engineer.” 
a Were you acquainted with the deceased? ” 
I saw him once.” 

speak with him?” 

233 


up the Witch Brook Road 


He lifted my horse’s foot, as it was stand- 
ing in front of a house in the village, and I 
told him to put it down.” 

“ You had no grudge against the old man? ” 
“ None whatever.” 

You passed over the road late on the night 
of his death. Where had you been, and why 
were you out so late? Tell us briefly about it.” 

With my friend, Mr. Perrine, I had been 
to the village to make a social call at the resi- 
dence of ’Squire Wells. We were given re- 
freshments there, but the only beverages which 
were served were tea and raspberry shrub ” — 
a slight giggle ran through the room — snd 
we had nothing more after leaving there. It 
was a flne night, and we rode along at only a 
comfortable rate of speed. It must have been 
about midnight when we turned into the 
Witch Brook road. I did not notice it much 
at the time, but after I had passed the spot 
v/here the body of this man was found, I re- 
marked to my friend that that dark bunch in 
the sand there looked like the body of a man. 
He rejoined lightly that it was nothing but a 
heap of brush or stones — and I thought noth- 
ing more of it. As we did not learn of the 
murder until the second day afterward ” — 

234 


The Inquest 


profound sensation for more than a minute — 
I repeat, sir, that we knew nothing of this 
unfortunate affair until Friday morning, when 
we called to do an errand ’’ — suppressed gig- 
gling again in several quarters — at the resi- 
dence of ’Squire Wells — ^it is not strange that 
I did not at first remember the circumstance.” 

You passed straight along the road? ” 

“ Perfectly straight.” 

“ You remained on your horse’s back during 
the whole trip? ” 

Neither one of us dismounted from the 
time we left the village until we reached the 
Jed Sears place.” 

You are sure that your horse did not step 
on this dark heap, or kick at it or touch it? ” 

Perfectly sure.” 

Several more questions were asked, and the 
same or similar ones were put to Kichard 
Perrine, but no further facts of importance 
were elicited, and ’Squire Wing remarked to 
the jury, with a short resume of the testimony, 
that there seemed to be no ground for holding 
any one for the murder of Ezra Parkins. They 
consulted together a few moments without 
leaving their seats, and presently the verdict 
was pronounced that Uncle Ezra came to his 

235 


up the Witch Brook Road 


death, while intoxicated, through some cause 
or causes unknown. 

My grandfather in a relieved way began to 
mop the moisture on his bald head. Cousin 
Calista heaved a deep, long sigh, and I could 
see the color coming back to the faces of the 
rest of the family. It seemed as though we 
had waked up from a nightmare; but I was 
soon reminded that all was not yet over. 
Aunt Apphia stopped on our way out through 
the crowd, to speak to an old neighbor. As I 
stood grasping her hand tightly to avoid being 
swept on with the multitude, two rough men 
whom I did not know were wedged in beside 
me for a moment. They were talking in low, 
growling tones. 

“ I believe one o’ them dandies done 

it,” said one. If I had my way, I’d hold ’em, 
an’ I’d try ’em in short order — an’ I’d string 
’em up. It’s my belief they desarve it.” 

You never spoke truer,” assented the other 
one in a tone full of malice. “ I seen that big 
one when he gin it to Uncle Ezry for meddlin’ 

with his horse — an’ by I’d like to ’a’ 

gin him a punch in the head.” 

Oh, he done it — an’ he done it a-purpose,” 
affirmed the other. 


236 


The Inquest 


The old, sickening fear was roused within 
me. What if there were ever so many people 
who agreed with these vulgar men! Might 
they not succeed in getting Mr. Holly and Mr. 
Perrine arrested, after all? 

As soon as we were well out of the hall, I 
told Aunt Apphia what I had heard. She lis- 
tened to it with eager and abundant wrath, 
and bade me never repeat it to any one out- 
side of the family. 

But they didn^t do it I ” I cried, indig- 
nantly. 

“ No, but so long as there are feelings 
abroad such as these rude men have toward 
them, such things will be said. I don’t see 
how they can do any harm, and they are 
hound to die out, little by little. Time will 
pass, and other things will happen and crowd 
out this. Just don’t say anything about it to 
anybody.” 

My grandfather gave the same counsel to us 
when we were all together for family prayers 
that evening. It was good counsel — but, in 
spite of all our wisdom, affairs often will take 
their own way, without regard to our inten- 
tions ; and it was thus in this instance. 

The young men attended the funeral, sitting 
237 


XJp the Witch Brook Road 


with our family and behaving in their usual 
irreproachable way. Then they came home 
with us, and we had a quiet dinner to- 
gether. It was shadowed for me — and, I 
fancied, at least for one other — by the fact 
that Aunt Apphia, though she had been to the 
funeral with the rest of us, had gone to her 
room immediately afterward, on her old plea 
of a headache, and there she remained until 
after our guests had gone. 

For three or four days we led a most mo- 
notonous and uneventful existence. At the 
breakfast-table on the morning of the fifth day 
Cousin Calista could bear it no longer. 

‘‘ Oh, I never saw anything so deadly dull 
as this place is, and all of us, too,’^ she burst 
forth. “ I am just stifling. It is absurd that 
we can’t have any fun — not even go on an in- 
nocent picnic — ^just because of that old idiot.” 

My grandfather dropped his knife and fork 
and gave her a look such as one remembers, 
while a dark red color mounted up his cheeks. 

“ Do you not know, Calista,” he thundered, 
in a voice which struck terror to our souls, 
that the most frightful calamity which can 
befall humanity has just taken place in this 
town? And cannot you realize that the two 
238 


The Inquest 


young men whom we all like so much, and to 
whom we are so much indebted, have only just 
escaped with their lives? They are not yet 
out of danger — for there are scores of men in 
this village who believe that they are guilty at 
least of manslaughter.’’ 

Here he pulled himseff up, and looked 
around on us with a more benevolent air. 

“ I don’t mean that you should go into 
mourning or sit in sackcloth and ashes, as the 
Scriptures have it, but you must never speak 
lightly of old Ezra Parkins — nor of what has 
happened — and you must not think of having 
any special merry-makings for at least several 
weeks.” 

Cousin Calista pouted. 

It will be winter-time then,” she muttered. 

Well,” he reminded her, “ you and Jerry 
are going to visit your uncle in the city in 
November. You have pleasant prospects. 
Just now common prudence and decency re- 
quire that we should be quiet.” 

He pushed back his chair, and nothing more 
was said on the subject. In his morning peti- 
tion he prayed with uncommon fervor that 
those guilty of the infamous crime which had 
so disquieted our community might speedily 

239 


up the Witch Brook Road 


be brought to justice. It was plain to see that 
he was thinking night and day, in the hope of 
finding some way of removing from the fair 
names of those to whom we were so heavily 
indebted, the foul and hateful stain which had 
fallen upon them. 

Though we worked assiduously in the gar- 
den and orchard, and took long rides behind 
Tansy and on her back and Lady Janets, and 
though we read aloud and embroidered and 
did everything that we could think of, the next 
few days passed heavily. We could not forget 
the nerve-trying events of the past fortnight, 
and few of us slept soundly. 

One evening, when Shannah was sitting on 
the kitchen doorstep in the twilight, looking 
lonely and forlorn, I sat down beside her and 
took her hand lovingly. 

Are you homesick for the ould counthry, 
Shannah, mavourneen?” I asked her, trying 
to help her by using the accents that she had 
taught me. 

“ Ow — ^it’s not that, at all, at all,’’ she 
shuddered out. “ It schkares me so, dar- 
lint — that murder an’ all! An’ the Square 
goin’ on so fierce wid the young ladies, an’ 
sayin’ it might be thot those grand young men 
240 


The Inquest 


iver did thot venomous, lamentable thing, 
whin we know it do be unpossible. Miss Bar- 
bara. An^ yet, there do be men thot bad, I’m 
afther thinkin’ sure enough, thot they might 
get our young men arristed an’ put in jail, 
swateheart — they might thot — an’ I can’t get 
the better of the old man thot was killed — an’ 
me a-seein’ of thot old man ivery day or so 
these long years now. Oo — oo ! I do be afther 
dramin’ about it o’ nights. Did somebody 
crape up behint him and sthrike him on his 
head, I wonder, honey? Oo — oo, it is fierce, 
honey, an’ poor Shannah can’t get the betther 
of it.” 

Shannah caught me up and pressed me hard 
in her arms, until I felt the relic on her faith- 
ful bosom. I said nothing to Aunt Apphia of 
this fervid outburst. I knew that she would 
have no patience with Shannah for thus stir- 
ring up my already overwrought imagination ; 
— but my own dreams were not rendered any 
more cheerful by the additional layers of color 
which poor Shannah’s words had added to the 
pictures with which I was already familiar. 


241 



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1 


XIII 

AN UNEXPECTED WITNESS 


The morally insane man does not look upon his crimes as 
bad. but commits them with the same unconcern as that with 
which a sane man would perform an ordinary or virtuous act, 
and after his misdeeds is quite contented with himself.” 

Max Nordau. 



CHAPTER XIII 


An Unexpected lUitness 


HE second week after the funeral was 



quite as dreary as the first. The only 


person who seemed to get any enjoy- 


ment at all was grandmother, whose an- 
nual carnival of jelly and marmalade-making 
and pickling went on with unprecedented fury. 
She had never had us all so completely at her 
mercy, and she put up enough preserves and 
conserves to supply the entire village. Grand- 
mother was a generous soul, but her means 
for many years had been limited. We raised 
quantities of berries and fruit, however, and 
the cost of putting them up was comparatively 
trifiing. Thus she amassed a store of desir- 
able capital, which she showered freely on all 
her invalid friends. Her presents bore a 
strong family likeness to each other — but they 
were good, and everybody was glad to get 


them. 


Cousin Calista in these days was ox)enly and 
avowedly cross. Aunt Jerry accused her of 


245 


up the Witch Brook Road 


being in love, and rattled off dozens of senti- 
mental couplets, which she declared that she 
had found lying around the house in Cousin 
Calista’s handwriting. We all laughed at her 
nonsense. Cousin Calista with the rest of us; 
but she was visibly annoyed, and a new idea 
was lodged in my astute little brain. I un- 
derstood better her obstinate ride, the depth 
of her subsequent repentance, and her present 
mood of uneasy sulkiness. 

After two weeks had passed, we began to 
think that a certain dinner-call was overdue. 
We listened again for horses^ feet on tlie 
bridge, and rushed nervously to the windows 
when we heard teams go by. We suspected — 
I had heard Aunt Apphia and Aunt Jerry talk- 
ing it over privately — that grandfather had 
suggested to the young men that they might 
discreetly keep rather close for awhile — but 
Aunt Jerry was somewhat shocked, after all, 
by what was undoubtedly a flagrant infringe- 
ment of etiquette, especially when the result 
was such decided ennui in the household. 

Elihu Trimble had been well for some time 
now, and he came up on his horse nearly every 
evening. Then Tansy was saddled for Aunt 
Leah, and they went off for a canter up and 
246 


An Unexpected Witness 


down the river. Sometimes I was permitted 
to go on a pillion behind one or the other of 
them, but not often, for they did not care to 
have my sharp little ears listening to all of the 
sentimental nothings, of which, in my critical 
judgment, their conversation chiefly consisted. 

One evening, when they had just ridden of£ 
and we were sitting around the open door, 
some of us in chairs just within the hall, some 
of us on the big stone steps outside. Cousin 
Calista yawned and remarked, “ I declare, I 
wish somebody would come. I saw Tom Bal- 
lantyne around yesterday. I should think he 
would run up. I should be glad to see 
Timothy Boggs. Even your friend Silas Doty 
would be a relief, Affie.’’ 

^<Why, yes, what has become of Silas, I 
wonder,^’ mused Aunt Jerry. “He hasn^t 
been in for a book for weeks, has he, Affie? 

“ No,” answered Aunt Apphia, shortly. 

“ I saw him out here the day Uncle Ezra 
lifted the horse's foot,” said Cousin Calista. 

“ That fellow has sinister and furtive looks 
somehow,” Aunt Jerry went on. “ I have seen 
him wandering around here in the twilights. 
I believe he will go crazy sometime— he has 
just that kind of an expression on his face.” 

247 


up the Witch Brook Road 


“ I don’t think so,” expostulated Aunt Ap- 
phia, but rather coldly. I have heard that 
he is working a farm on shares and doing well. 
I think his mind is all right. All the same, I 
would just as soon he wouldn’t come around, 
even for the purpose of dispelling the languors 
which seem to rest so heavily upon you.” 

My grandmother, who was rocking in her 
special chair just inside the door, seized the 
opportunity for a little moral lecture. 

“ You girls are suffering now for the way 
you have been treating the village boys ever 
since you made these fine new friends in Hick- 
ory. You have snubbed and neglected your 
old companions, and they feel it, and I don’t 
blame them. Very likely the young men in 
Hickory will get through working their mine 
before long. They do not seem to be making 
much out of it — and they have had such a 
disagreeable experience here that they may be 
quite ready to abandon the place. Then you 
will probably never see them again, and you 
will wish that you had been more considerate 
of the feelings of your old Birchmont play- 
mates.” 

‘‘ Oh, mother, don’t worry,” said Aunt Jerry, 
with an air of labored indifference. We can 
248 


An Unexpected Witness 


stand it, even if the hyacinthine Tom Ballan- 
tyne and the fascinating Mr. Boggs never 
darken our doors again. Calista can still play 
on her harp, and the rest of us can dance 
around the parlor. We shall live right along.” 

Then don^t let me hear you complain again 
of loneliness,” said grandmother sharply. 

Suddenly, an awkward, shambling figure 
came along the street and began portentously 
to slow up, just outside our gate. 

“ There is Silas now, upon my word ! ” gig- 
gled Aunt Jerry. 

Speak of angels ! ” laughed Cousin Ca- 
lista. 

Silas opened the gate and advanced a step 
or two up the walk, but nobody rose to wel- 
come him. Aunt Apphia had made at first as 
though she would run away. Then she seemed 
to think better of it. She rose at last with a 
vast amount of dignity, and advanced a step 
forward to meet him. Her air was really 
quite majestic, and it seemed to me that she 
was likely to frighten poor Silas. 

Good evening, Silas,” said Aunt Apphia 
civilly, but not cordially. ''It has been a 
long time since we saw you. Do you want 
a book?” 


249 


up the Witch Brook Road 


“ Good evening, Miss Affie. Good evening, 
ladies,” began Silas, with elaborate politeness, 
and holding his hat uneasily in his hand. 

No — n — no. Miss Affie, thank yon, I don’t 
want any book to-night. The rowen is coming 
on pretty soon now, an’ we’ve got consid’- 
able rye an’ stuff to harvest, an’ I ain’t 
havin’ so much time to read as I shall, 
come fall. No — I jest called to see ye a min- 
ute or two. I’ve got somethin’ kinder impor- 
tant to talk over with ye — somethin’ I guess 
will kinder interest ye,” added Silas, in a 
spicy and appetizing manner. “ I thought 
maybe you would go to walk a little ways with 
me — ’most anywhere — I don’t care where, so 
long’s we can talk.” 

Aunt Apphia hesitated. In spite of the in- 
ducements which Silas was offering her, the 
memory of her last interview with him gave her 
little zest for another. Still, since he had 
something to tell her, which he fancied im- 
portant^ why, she ought perhaps to go. Be- 
sides, Cousin Calista and Aunt Jerry were 
making fun of Silas every minute. She could 
hear them mimicking him under their breath, 
and she felt sure that it was a question of 
250 


An Unexpected Witness 


only a few seconds before he would hear them 
also. She must do something at once. 

« Very well, Silas,” she said sedately. “ You 
and Barbara and I will stroll down in the 
meadow. The grass has just been cut there, 
and we shall not get wet.” 

Silas gazed at me with profound disap- 
proval, but Aunt Apphia took my hand with 
decision, and we walked around the house and 
through the long, bright garden into the 
field.” When we at last reached the open 
meadow, Silas pointed to me and said : “ Miss 
Affie, I’m goin’ to say some things to you that 
nobody else must know. It’s more important, 
mebbe, than you think. I’m afraid she will 
tell.” 

Oh, no, she won’t,” declared Aunt Apphia, 
positively. She is too small to understand 
the meaning of things, and she is no talker 
at all. I am sure she would never tell, espe- 
cially if I should make her promise not to. Ke- 
member, darling, you must never tell any one 
what Silas tells me to-night.” 

“ No, auntie,” I affirmed solemnly, I won’t. 
I certainly won’t.” ‘ 

Silas looked dissatisfied still. He had hoped, 

251 


up the Witch Brook Road 


no doubt, that I should be sent back to the 
house when Aunt Apphia became properly im- 
pressed with the momentous nature of his mes- 
sage; but finally he decided to go on. 

Several times he cleared his throat and made 
an inarticulate noise, as if he were surely 
going to begin. Then he would lose his 
courage and stop. Aunt Apphia walked 
along, with what seemed to me an almost cruel 
indifference to his sufferings. She made ab- 
solutely no effort to help him. Once in a 
while she would stoop to look for a four-leaved 
clover, or turn to watch the sunset. All of 
which did not tend to calm the mind of Silas. 

At last, he managed to stammer out, Miss 
AfiSe — Miss Affie — say, now, what do you 
think? Do you really think those fine young 
men up to Hickory really did — well — really 
did kill Uncle Ezry Parkins? ” 

Mercy, no ! ” cried Aunt Apphia, who 
had not imagined that Silas would recur to 
this distasteful subject. Nobody who is 
sensible could for an instant think that they 
did.” 

Indeed, you never were more mistaken in 
your life ! ” cried Silas, finding his tongue with 
a vengeance. “ There are dozens of folks that 
252 


An Unexpected Witness 


believe it. They think it was jest as the Lar- 
kin boy said — the tracks did go close up — 
and over, mind you, Miss Affie, over — Uncle 
Ezry^s body. They think Square Wing 
oughter of ordered ’em arrested, instid o^ 
callin’ what the Larkin boy said no account, 
an’ callin’ what the fellers said themselves, 
law and gospel. Course they would say they 
hadn’t had nothin’ to drink. Course they would 
say they knew they never touched the body. 
If the Square hadn’t been mighty friendly to 
’em, he would ’a’ had ’em arrested. There’s 
goin’ to be a move to arrest ’em yet, so folks 
say. Some of ’em have been to the sheriff 
about it. There’s talk of gettin’ out a warrant 
— pretty soon, too.” 

Silas’s tone became fairly menacing. I 
was alarmed, and tightened my hold upon 
Aunt Apphia’s hand. 

It seems to me too silly to be talked of 
seriously,” commented Aunt Apphia. I could 
see that she was having a struggle to retain 
her self-control, but Silas could not have sus- 
pected it from her level tone and deliberate 
manner. “ There was no motive for them to 
hurt that poor old man. Why should they 
have wanted to do it? ” 

253 


up the Witch Brook Road 


“ Oh, out of spite, mebbe — mebbe somethin^ 
else,” declared Silas, with conviction. There 
was sights o’ folks see how mad one on ’em 
got that day Uncle Ezry took hold of his 
precious horse’s foot. I seen him myself. He 
got tearin’ mad, an’ spoke up — wal, regilar in- 
sultin’ to Uncle Ezry.” 

I heard him,” said Aunt Apphia coldly. 

He was annoyed, but he was gentlemanly 
enough.” 

“ That ain’t the way most folks think,” in- 
sisted Silas sullenly. Oh, they’re high- 
fliers — them fellers be. They’re from Bostin, 
I hear — an’ they’re rich enough so’s’t if they 
should sink ten thousand dollars in that 
‘ mine,’ ’s they call it — nothin’ in it but fool’s 
gold, folks say — they wouldn’t mind it a mite. 
I s’pose they’ve got a sight o’ money — an’ they 
feel so big that us folks here — why, I s’pose 
we seem like so many teenty, wuthless sorter 
maggots or somethin’, to ’em. I s’pose they 
might a’ felt — I don’t say they did. Miss Affie 
— but they might ’a’ felt as if, if they sorter 
took a notion to run down old Uncle Ezry, 
jest to have a little mite o’ fun — or because it 
was easier than it was not to — why, I s’pose 
they might ’a’ done it.” 


An Unexpected Witness 


Silas ! ” cried Aunt Apphia angrily, “ you 
shall not talk so! It is wicked. Not a word 
of it is true.” 

“ Now don^t get mad, Miss Affie — don't,” 
pleaded Silas. I’m only jest tellin’ you 
what folks say — an’ it is what they say — an’ 
I can’t help it — an’ you might’s well under- 
stand it — for it’s true as gospel — an’ that’s 
what anybody ’long the street’ll tell you.” 

Well, it is a disgrace to Birchmont that 
such accusations should be made against in- 
nocent men,” declared Aunt Apphia hotly. 
“ But, fortunately, it doesn’t make any differ- 
ence. Even if some harebrained rascal should 
get them arrested, nothing could possibly be 
proved against them.” 

By this time we had reached the end of the 
field. There was a large rock here on which 
we often sat, and now Aunt Apphia dropped 
upon this and motioned Silas to sit down be- 
side her. 

That ain’t what a good many think. Miss 
Affie,” still insisted Silas pertinaciously. 

There have some things come up since the 
inquest. There’s a sight of evidence that 
didn’t get in then. There always is a lot 
that sorter dribbles out afterwards, a little at 

255 


up the Witch Brook Road 


a time. An’ some of the men may get out a 
warrant — yes, they may. Oh, I know,” con- 
tinued Silas in a tone of agony, “ that they’ve 
been danglin’ around you girls, an’ you think 
they’re all right — an’ mebbe they be — but 
again mebbe they ain’t. They probably let 
on to fall in love with a mess o^ girls in every 
town they go to,” proceeded Silas artfully. 

Then they leave ’em, an’ go on to the next 
place — an’ tlnem, girls will think they’re per- 
fectly lovely, too — oh, that’s their style. 
They’s sights o’ them fellers lyin’ around loose 
everywhere — sights on ’em. Oh, Miss Aflie, I 
wisht you’d send her off somewhere for jest a 
few minutes — jest a few minutes ! Can’t she 
go an’ pick a bunch o’ them daisies off up 
there? ” 

I was accordingly dispatched to the hill- 
side to pick daisies, and I went dutifully 
enough; but the place was profoundly quiet, 
and a light wind was blowing toward me, and 
Silas, under the stress of his emotions, spoke 
in a voice louder than he meant to use. Con- 
sequently I heard distinctly nearly every word 
that he said. 

I s’pose you’ve noticed,” began Silas cau- 
256 


An Unexpected Witness 


tiously, “ that them fellers haven’t been 
around — not since the funeral.” 

“ You seem to keep very close track of their 
movements,” remarked Aunt Apphia sarcas- 
tically. 

Yes, I do, I do,” he assented eagerly, and 
without a trace of shame. “ I can tell you 
every time they have been down to the village 
ever since the horse ran away.” 

Aunt Apphia’s breath was nearly taken 
away by this frank admission. 

I don’t think that is very creditable to 
you, Silas,” she said sternly. ^^Why under 
the sun do you pursue them in this way? It 
doesn’t look very well.” 

“ I don’t care ! ” he sobbed out, while his 
breath began to come in great gulps. “ I do 
know — an’ I have followed ’em — an’ I shall 
do it again — an’ if that big one is after you 
the way I think he is, he will have to fight me 
for you — ^he will that. Miss Affie. For I’ve 
loved you so long. Miss Affie — an’ he ain’t 
but jest come — an’ he ain’t the sort to be good 
to you — oh, he ain’t. Miss Affie — an’ I’ve got 
to have you — I told you so — an’ every day I 
say it over an’ over to myself, ‘I’ve got to 
257 


Vp the Witch Brook Road 


have her’ — an’ it seems as if — ^it does, Miss 
Affie, an’ you might as well know it — it seems 
as if I would Mil anybody that wanted to get 
you away from me.” 

Aunt Apphia’s keen mind had been ranging 
over the situation ever since she had begun 
to catch the thread of Silas’s discourse. Now 
she gave a sudden gasp and cried sharply, 

Silas — you say you followed them every- 
where. Did you follow them that night? 
Did you, Silas? ” 

She caught his great hand in hers and gave 
it a peremptory shake, while her voice had 
that in it which compelled his answer. 

Ye-es,” he stammered unwillingly. That 
is — I didn’t rightly follow ’em — not exactly.” 

^^Well — what then?” she demanded im- 
periously. 

“ Oh, Miss Affie — that was what I wanted to 
tell you — that was what I came around for to- 
night — I wanted to tell you — that I was up 
there, right on the Witch Brook road — that 
night.” 

“ Had you followed them? ” she asked. 

“ No — I hadn’t — not that — but I had been 
bangin’ around here listenin’ to the talk an’ 
laughin’ — an’ I got kinder impatient — an’ so 
258 


An Unexpected Witness 


I rode along ahead of ’em, an’ I got into those 
woods along there, close by where Uncle Ezry 
was a-layin’ — ^but I hadn’t no idea he was 
a-layin’ there — and then I scrooched down in 
the woods, an’ sorter waited for ’em to come 
along.” 

That was nice business, I must say, Silas,” 
affirmed Aunt Apphia contemptuously. Oh, 
I never thought you would do anything so 
mean ! Well — go on — what did you see? ” 

“ That’s it,” said Silas cunningly. “ What 
did I see? Nobody in this world but you 
knows that I was up there that night — nobody 
knows what I saw. But I will tell you. Miss 
Affie — I will tell you — on one condition. If 
you’ll marry me. Miss Affie — oh. Miss Affie — 
if you will only marry me — I will tell you all 
about it! ” 


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XIV 

SIL^S DOTY'S CONFESSION 


“Insincerity is the last desperate resource of a sincere 
woman in distress.” 


Helen Dawes Brown. 


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CHAPTER XIV 


Silas Doty s Confession 

A unt APPHIA could not speak. She 
simply sat and gazed at him help- 
lessly. 

Don^t you see,” he resumed wildly, — there 
was more than a hint of frenzy in his manner 
— don’t you see that I can settle it all? If 
you want to have them set right, — or any- 
thing, — don’t you see that I can do it? And 
there isn’t anybody else on earth who' can. 
And I won’t do it, — I will die without letting 
anybody know, — unless you say you will have 
me, — I will, — I swan an’ I swear an’ I vum 
I will,” — this silly string of oaths, a common 
one among the children of the town, took on 
an actual seriousness from the concentrated 
determination of his tone, — “ unless you 
promise you will have me.” 

Aunt Apphia sprang up now with an even 
greater determination than his written on her 
face. She compassed the importance of it all, 
263 


up the Witch Brook Road 


and she felt her whole being rising to the oc- 
casion. 

Silas,” she exclaimed in a voice the ring 
of which seemed to cow him, “ you are all 
wrong in this matter, — but I cannot settle it 
in my mind to-night. I am too much shocked 
and amazed at what you have told me. Come 
to me to-morrow night, — come at half -past six, 
and I shall be ready with my answer.” 

^^Oh, no, tell me now. Miss Affie,” he pleaded, 
alarmed at the majesty of her bearing. 

I shall not,” she returned decidedly. 

But I am afraid you wdll tell, — oh, you 
won’t tell. Miss Affie? If you tell anybody a 
single word of all this that I have said. Miss 
Affie, I will kill myself, — yes, I will, — I will 
kill myself without telling anybody what I 
saw up there, — I will, if you don’t promise me, 
solemn and true, that you won’t tell anybody 
a single word.” 

Aunt Apphia looked contemptuously at the 
poor wretch, who w^as groveling by this time 
in the very grass at her feet. For a moment 
she regarded him thoughtfully without speak- 
ing. Then she seemed to see her way clearly. 

Get up, Silas,” she said at last. “ I will 
264 


Silas Doty’s Confession 


promise you. I will tell no one whatever any 
word of what you have said to me to-night.” 

She called to me. I was already halfway 
down the hillside, for I had started toward 
her as soon as she had risen from her seat. 

“ Make her promise, too,” he begged ab- 
jectly. She might have heard something.” 

I did promise,” I piped up promptly, I 
promised once, but I would just as soon 
promise again.” 

Then we walked on silently over the dewy 
meadow, and along the sweet garden path, 
where the new jockey clubs were burdening 
the air with their overpowering fragrance, and 
down to the front gate. There Silas turned 
once more, and, bidding good-night to the rest 
of the family, who were still sitting there, he 
flung out in a hoarse growl under his breath to 
Aunt Apphia, “ Oh, you won’t tell, will you. 
Miss Afiae? ” And Aunt Apphia answered 
scornfully, “I have promised, Silas. Good- 
night.” 

I could feel her hand cold and rigid in mine 
when she turned away. 

“You have had quite an interview with 
Silas,” laughed Cousin Calista, as we ap- 
265 


up the Witch Brook Road 


proached the door, after watching his tall fig- 
ure until it had slouched away almost out of 
sight. 

“ Thank goodness, I wasn’t in your shoes ! ” 
added Aunt Jerry lightly. 

Aunt Apphia said nothing, but we both of 
us thought that Aunt Jerry might have rather 
liked to hear what Silas had to say, after all. 
Presently Aunt Apphia complained that she 
was too tired to sit up any longer, and Tve 
went off to bed together. 

All night she tossed and murmured. Once 
or twice when I awoke, I found her place 
vacant, and raising myself up in bed, could see 
her leaning out of the window. 

Are you sick, auntie? ” I whispered in dis- 
tress. 

No, no, darling, — go to sleep. It is so hot, 
auntie had to come to the window to get a 
breath of air.” 

I wondered if she were making up her mind 
to tell Silas that she would marry him. This 
was not my programme for her, since I had 
long ago decided that she was to become the 
wife of my adored Mr. Holly. Still, I had 
pondered over the matter, and I felt that, if 
Silas could remove from Mr. Holly the stain 
266 


Silas Doty's Confession 


and suspicion now resting upon him, perhaps 
it was Aunt Apphia’s duty to marry this 
strange witness. In that case, a glimmering 
hope for myself, which had always lingered 
latent in my heart, might burst into full ef- 
fluence. I might marry Mr. Holly myself. 

I knew better than to ask any questions of 
Aunt Apphia, or to make any remarks what- 
ever upon the dilemma in which Silas had 
placed her. But I could see from her bearing 
the next morning, that she had arrived at some 
sort of a conclusion. I was confirmed in this 
opinion when, during the forenoon, she came 
into the east room, where grandfather was busy 
with his law-work and I was sitting with him. 
She shut the door behind her, and said, 
“ Father, I want you to be in the dining-room 
this evening at half-past six with the sheriff. 
Don^t be frightened, — but I think it possible 
that something quite important may happen, 
— and not, on the whole, disagreeable. I wish 
you to have the door into this room slightly 
ajar, so that you and he can hear every word 
that is said.” 

My grandfather looked mystified and wor- 
ried. 

I am not permitted to tell you anything 
267 


up the Witch Brook Road 


more,” pursued Aunt Apphia, but I am sure 
you have confidence enough in me to be sure 
that I know what I am about. I thought you 
had better, perhaps, inform Mr. Dart right 
away, in order to be certain that he will be 
able to come. He had better be prepared to 
arrest somebody.” 

This is really very sensational,” said 
grandfather, shaking his head. But I will 
try to do as you say and bide your time for ex- 
planations.” 

He took his hat and went out, after prom- 
ising Aunt Apphia to maintain the strictest 
secrecy regarding the whole matter. 

It seemed to me that the afternoon would 
never end, but at last the supper was over and 
we were sitting again on the steps and around 
the front door, as usual. 

Why, Afifte, there comes Silas again,” ex- 
claimed Aunt Jerry. 

‘‘Did you expect him?” asked Cousin Ca- 
lista. 

“ Yes, — ^he had a little unfinished business 
left over from last night,” said Aunt Apphia 
grimly. 

“ Really ! ” laughed Aunt Jerry. “ This 
268 


Silas Doty’s Confession 


looks suspicious. What can you and Silas be 
up to ! 

By this time Silas, his manner a singular 
mixture of trepidation and insolence, had 
reached the gate. Aunt Apphia rose promptly 
to receive him. Her voice was so pleasant 
when she asked him to come in ” that I could 
scarcely believe my ears. He was even more 
surprised than I was, and a broad smile over- 
spread his half-simple, half-cunning counte- 
nance, as he followed her into the east room. 

“ Sit down,” she said, as she motioned him 
to a chair. 

“ I don’t like to talk in the house,” he be- 
gan uneasily. Somebody might hear us.” 

You can talk as softly as you like,” said 
Aunt Apphia coolly, “but I do not care to 
walk out this evening. I will shut the door 
so that the people on the steps need not hear 
you.” She closed firmly the door opening 
into the front hall. The door into the dining- 
room was already nearly closed. I slunk 
away into a corner of the sofa, and laid my 
head on the pillow there. Silas looked at me 
darkly, but Aunt Apphia said, “ She won’t do 
any more harm than a little kitten,” and loftily 
269 


up the Witch Brook Road 


dismissed the subject, after which I was wise 
enough to keep perfectly still. 

It was now nearly seven o^ clock. The vines 
over the window and the big maple trees in 
front made it seem even later. The room was 
really quite dim. 

^^Well,” commenced Silas, when we were 
fairly seated. ‘‘ Will you do it. Miss Affie? 

Let me see if I understand your propo- 
sition, Silas,” said Aunt Apphia in a clear 
voice. You were in the habit of following 
Mr. Holly and Mr. Perrine every time they 
started from the village for home. You hated 
them, and you had fully intended to kill one of 
them, in case you found out that he interfered 
with your plans. Is that so? ” 

Tain’t exactly that way,” grumbled Silas. 

^‘Why, that was what you told me. You 
certainly said that you would kill one of those 
young men, if you found certain conditions 
to prevail — now didn’t you? ” 

Ye — es,” admitted Silas doggedly. 

On that night, still with this desire for 
murder in your heart, you lurked beside the 
road near the spot where Uncle Ezra Parkins 
was lying. Did you have a gun or pistol with 
you, Silas?” 


270 


Bilas Doty^s Confession 


I do^ know what difference that makes/^ 
growled Silas. 

“ I want to understand this case exactly as 
it is,” pursued Aunt Apphia unfalteringly. 
“ Answer my question.” 

Yes, I had a pistol, but I didn’t fire any 
pistol,” answered poor, silly Silas, utterly 
failing to sense Aunt Apphia’s plot. I don’t 
see what that has to do with it.” 

“ Oh, it has a good deal to do with it,” she 
answered, smiling, but with a whiteness on 
her face, which revealed how much she was 
stirred. “ And you crouched there in the 
woods with your pistol in your hand, waiting 
for those young men to come along, and you 
saw them come along, and you saw what 
murdered Uncle Ezra — you saw the whole 
thing.” 

I saw the whole thing,” repeated Silas with 
intense self-satisfaction, still oblivious of the 
net into which he was being dragged. 

But you kept silence at the inquest. You 
allowed the fair name of innocent men to 
be—” 

Who said they were innocent? ” demanded 
Silas hoarsely. I never said they were inno- 
cent. Mebbe they ain’t innocent, but I know, 
271 


Vp the Witch Brook Road 


an’ I’m the only being on God’s earth that 
does know, an’ I never will tell, I never will, 
so help me, if you don’t marry me. Miss Affie.” 

Aunt Apphia hurried across the room and 
threw open the door. In walked my grand- 
father, accompanied by Mr. Duncan Dart, who 
said calmly, I arrest you, Silas — sorry to do 
it, an old neighbor so — ^but we have to do dis- 
agreeable things, you know, sometimes. I 
arrest you for carrying concealed weapons 
with intent to kill. You have said so, and 
there is nothing to do but arrest you.” 

Silas looked dumbfounded. Then he turned 
reproachfully to Aunt Apphia. 

I did not tell, Silas,” she answered. I 
simply asked my father to be here so that he 
might hear our conversation. I knew that you 
were a criminal, and I should therefore have 
been justified in breaking my promise. It 
was impossible for me to accede to your re- 
quest. It was impossible before, and it was 
doubly impossible after I had heard how 
wicked you had been. Why, I never knew of 
anybody else so wicked, and yet you do not 
seem in the least to realize it.” 

You may go out and shut the door,” sug- 
gested my grandfather, pushing Aunt Apphia 
272 


Si/as Doty’s Confession 


and me gently away. Mr. Dart and I will 
labor for a few moments with Silas. It may 
not be necessary to shut him up.’^ 

For nearly an hour my grandfather and the 
sheriff talked with Silas, while Aunt Apphia 
and I sat shudderingly in a corner of the big 
old chintz-covered lounge in the dining-room. 
We knew that the girls and grandmother were 
wondering at the long interview which we 
were having with Silas, but Aunt Apphia was 
too much distraught to go around to the front 
hall and sit with them, laughing and joking, 
when such vital subjects were under discus- 
sion. So we sat there and waited. Would 
grandfather be able to make Silas confess? 
And would Silas then go off and kill himself? 
Oh, what did he see? And would Mr. Dart 
really shut Silas up in jail? 

I whispered these questions and others like 
them into Aunt Apphia^s ear from time to 
time; but all that she could say in reply was 
simply, Oh, I don^t know, dear. For pity’s 
sake, don’t talk.” 

Poor Aunt Apphia had borne almost as 
much as she could endure. 

At length we could hear that grandfather’s 
tone, which had been stern and threatening, 

273 


up the Witch Brook Road 


had grown more gentle. A few minutes later 
he opened the door and called for a light. 
Aunt Apphia hurried to bring it, and then he 
told her to remain. “ Barbara, call the others,^' 
he added, and, speechless with wonder, they 
all came straggling in. I did not omit Shan- 
nah. She was out in the garden, but she came 
running when I called her name from the 
back steps, and we slipped into the east room 
just as my grandfather was announcing, in a 
grand and formal way, that Silas had a few 
statements to make to us. 

Silas began to speak, but he mumbled his 
words so that we could not understand any- 
thing. 

“ Shall I say it for you? ” asked grandfather, 
rather impatiently. 

No, I will say it,” said Silas, bracing him- 
self ; and then he poured out a long and ram- 
bling account of his adventures. The main 
part of what he had to say was already fa- 
miliar to us. The interesting part of it be- 
gan when he related how, after sitting among 
the bushes for a half-hour or more, he observed 
that, not a dozen rods from him, and some- 
what to the north, there was a dark heap on 
the sand. The bank was high there, and had 
274 


Silas Doty’s Confession 


been cut away in digging sand and gravel 
until the woods at the back stood on a ridge, 
which in some places was ten or fifteen feet 
high. Silas was lying on top of this ridge, 
and he might easily have seen the body be- 
fore, except for the fact that he had been so 
keenly watching the road to the southward 
that he had not thought to look elsewhere. 

I listened,” he continued, “ but I couldn^t 
hear the horses, so I knew I should have time 
to go down and see what that thing was, be- 
fore they could come. I jumped down the 
bank, and as soon as I got close to him I 
knew it was Uncle Ezry. The moon didn’t 
light up much there, because the woods are so 
shady and high on both sides of the road. I 
knew well enough that he had been drinkin’, 
for he always' would drink if he could manage 
to beg, borrow or steal any liquor, an’ I shook 
him an’ tried to rouse him. I said, ‘You 
don’t want to be out here all night. Uncle 
Ezry,’ but he only groaned and turned himself 
a little mite, an’ I saw it wa’n’t any use; an’ 
it wa’n’t cold, an’ he wa’n’t anywhere near 
the road ; he was a full eight or nine feet from 
it, and there wa’n’t a chance out of a million 
that anybody except these mine fellers would 

275 


up the Witch Brook Road 


go by all night long, an^ so I didn’t see as it 
would do any harm to let him lay there.” 

And he was alive then and all right? ” in- 
quired my grandfather. 

“ He was jest as live as I am this minute,” 
affirmed Silas. He moved and mumbled. 
Then I began to think it was gettin’ time for 
the fellers to come along, an’ so I up an’ 
jumped on to the bank again an’ hid where I 
was before, an’ it was mighty lucky for me 
that I did ” — Silas’s voice grew low and deep 
— ‘‘ for if I had stayed there, I might have been 
killed ’long with Uncle Ezry.” 

We were all listening with such eagerness 
that it was painful. The words hurt me as 
they fell upon my eager ears, and I could see 
that everybody else was almost ready to col- 
lapse from the strain. 

Then — ” said my grandfather. 

“ Then,” continued Silas, unwillingly, but 
with a certain zest in telling what he knew to 
be one of the most interesting tales which his 
auditors would ever hear, ‘^tlien all of a sudden 
I heard a crashin’ in the woods on the other 
side of the road, an awful noise, like the 
smashin’ of a lot of dishes, mixed with thunder 
and snortin’ and yelpin’ — the most dreadful 
276 


Silas Doty’s Confession 


noise I ever heard or hope to hear. And it 
came nearer and nearer, an’ all of a sudden 
somethin’ busted like a whirlwind out of the 
woods there — ^it was all so quick, from the first 
I heard of the noise till this thing busted out 
on me — that I couldn’t have counted five; you 
never saw anythin’ so loud an’ so scarey an’ 
so sorter terrible! An’ this thing dashed, as 
if the Old Scratch himself was after it, right 
acrost the road, an’ right over Uncle Ezry, 
an’ then it clum the bank, an’ jumped right 
up it, like mad, an’ went crashin’ through the 
woods, further an’ further off, till I couldn’t 
hear it no longer. Why, I was layin’ on the 
ground like a rag when it was all over. 
Mebbe I fainted away; I do’ know. I know 
I didn’t stir for quite awhile. I guess it was 
bearin’ the mine fellers cornin’ that roused me 
up. It might have been only ten or fifteen 
minutes afterwards that they come along, or 
it might have been an hour or two. I was 
that dazed-like an’ used up I didn’t know 
whether time was passin’ or not, but the first 
I knew, there they was, close by, walkin’ their 
horses along, easy-like — they never thought 
what had happened. They hadn’t heard any- 
thing, likely, of all that racket — ’way down on 
277 


up the Witch Brook Road 


the river road so. ’Tain^t likely anybody on 
earth heard it but me. 

After they had gone I lay there on the 
ground thinkin\ My head had sorter cleared 
up by this time, an’ I made up my mind that 
the thing that had dashed right over Uncle 
Ezry and into the woods was Jed Sears’s old 
sorrel mare. I had seen her time and time 
again — and she was a long, lopin’ kind of an 
old thing — and I knew she had been out to 
pasture pretty much all summer. She must 
’a’ been scart almost to death of something. 
I tried to think it over, an’ it sorter come to 
me that there was somethin’ snarlin’ an’ 
yelpin’ like, follerin’ right after her — but 
mebbe ’twa’n’t so. If ’twas, it’s likely it might 
’a’ been a wildcat — there’s sights of ’em up on 
the mountain there — but I didn’t know they 
ever set onto horses. There has been a pretty 
cross bull there. Maybe he tried to hook the 
old horse — he’s ugly enough. I s’pose likely 
we never shall know what it was that scart 
that horse, but she was the scariest thing I 
ever see or hope to see, long’s I live.” 

“ Well,” interrupted my grandfather, I 
suppose you went down into the road after you 
tad recovered from your panic.’' 


Silas Doty’s Confession 


That word seemed to offend Silas. 

I wasn’t in a panic,” he averred resent- 
fully. I was jest the same — sorter startled 
like — as you would have been, Square, if you^d 
had such a thing come right ^own upon you 
when you had been a-layin’ quiet there in the 
bushes.” 

Yes, but I shouldn’t have been there,” said 
my grandfather grimly. 

Silas turned very red. Grandfather had 
evidently worked upon his fears, and opened 
his mind in such a way as to show him some- 
thing of the enormity of the crime of which he 
had been guilty. 

“ Go on, go on,” urged grandfather, as Silas 
choked up and faltered. “ Tell us what you 
found when you went down out of the woods.” 


279 



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XV 

A PICNIC 


It was a hill plaste in an open plaine 
That round about was bordered with a wood 
Of matchless height, that seemed th’ earth to disdaine ; 

In which all trees of honor stately stood, 

Spreading pavilions for the birds to bowre. 
********** 

An at the foot thereof a gentle flud 
His silver waves did softly tumble down.” 

Edmund 


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CHAPTER XV 


A Picnic 

it'XXTHY — I found jest what I told 
Y Y Silas, sullenly. 

“ The horse had stepped right 
onto Uncle Ezry^s head. You can see from 
that how scart he was, for horses never step 
on folks, they say, unless they are nigh out o’ 
their wits. You see, the horse, as fur as I 
could make out, was goin’ in big jumps. It 
didn’t seem to me as if he struck the ground 
more than once or twice from the piece o’ 
woods on the other side to the bank on this 
one — but the’ ain’t no doubt he struck on 
Uncle Ezry’s head one time. The sand was all 
over him — for the horse’s feet had flung up a 
sight of it. I dragged him out of the shade to 
a place where the moonlight struck bright on 
him, an’ then I could see that his hair was all 
bloody — matted-like, with blood an’ sand. I 
could see plain enough, too, that he was done 
for. Then I was more scart than I was be- 
fore — for I thought folks might think I had 
283 


up the Witch Brook Road 


murdered him — an’ so I dragged him back 
an’ laid him exactly where he was before an’ 
sorter scattered the sand around — an’ then I 
put for home.” 

“ You didn’t seem to mind having people 
think that another innocent person did it,” re- 
marked my grandfather, sternly. 

Silas reddened up again at this, and his 
whole appearance was so pitiable that we 
should have been sorry for him if he had not 
shown himself so perfectly remorseless in so 
long concealing these facts. Cousin Calista 
and my two younger aunts were curious to 
know why he had maintained this long silence, 
and they even expressed their wonder guard- 
edly; but my grandfather explained to them 
briefly that Silas had for sometime entertained 
a grudge against the young miners, on account 
of a wrong which he fancied that one of them 
had done him. This satisfied them, and he 
then went on to ask Silas if he had anything 
more to confess. Silas replied that he had 
not. 

“ Then, Silas,” said grandfather, in his most 
terrible manner, as he rose and put out his 
hand, I will bid you good night, and I wish 
you to remember that you are bound over to 
284 


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keep the peace. Do you understand me? I 
will only add that there are various legal 
grounds on which I might institute proceed- 
ings against you, and if I am obliged to do 
that, I shall prosecute you — do you under- 
stand? — ^prosecute you to the full extent of 
the law.” 

Silas actually quaked under this threat, 
which seemed to me, as I heard it uttered in 
grandfather^s deepest voice — used on only a 
few occasions during my whole life-time with 
him — ^impressive enough to frighten a much 
more valiant man. As he walked off down 
the road, grandfather looked after him with 
considerable satisfaction. 

‘‘ That was a good job done. Square — a good 
job,” chuckled Mr. Dart, “but I’m kinder 
sorry we let him go. He’d orter be shut up 
awhile, jest to take the conceit out of him, if 
nothin’ more. I never see a feller with so 
much nerve — an’ him a-knowin’ all the while 
the whole rest o’ creation was a- wonderin’ an’ 
a-'wonderin’ how in thunder this thing could 
’a’ happened — an’ layin’ it onto them mine 
fellers.” 

Mr. Dart had been among those who had 
been reported to be loudest in his suspicions 
285 


up the Witch Brook Road 


of “ them mine fellers,’^ — and Silases story, 
which was told in such a way that no one 
could doubt it, must have made the good man 
feel rather cheap. As he went out, he added, 
in a half-apologetic tone, An’ ’twa’n’t strange 
they did. The’ didn’t seem to be nobody else 
to lay it onto — an’ it seemed like the old man 
couldn’t ’a’ done it himself.” 

“ Well — tell everybody you meet,” were my 
grandfather’s parting words, spoken more 
cheerfully than any which we had heard from 
his lips for many a day. “ I’ll go over to the 
store myself,” he added. Then he spoke to 
Mr. Dart in a lower tone. When people 
want to know why in time Silas was perched 
up there in the woods at that hour of the night 
— ^it is enough to say that he had considered 
himself to have been injured and even insulted 
by one of the young men, and he was medi- 
tating vengeance on him.” Then he whispered 
something in the sheriff’s ear. You will 
oblige me by being very strict in this matter,” 
concluded grandfather, and Mr. Dart went 6ff 
saying, ‘‘You can trust me. Square. That’s 
all right.” 

He was greatly elated with the thought that 
he had a sensation in store. Between him and 
286 


A Picnic 


grandfather, at least twenty persons were in- 
formed within the next half-hour of the simple 
solution of the mystery which had shaken our 
little town to its foundations, and before they 
went to bed that night fully nine-tenths of the 
inhabitants of the village, and even of the out- 
lying districts for several miles around, knew 
that it was cider-brandy and Jed Searses old 
sorrel mare that killed Uncle Ezra Parkins, 
and that Mr. Holly and Mr. Perrine had had 
nothing to do with it. Great ridicule and in- 
credulity had been excited by the story that 
they did not know of the murder until the 
second day thereafter. This was considered 
palpably false, and had added considerably 
to the prejudice against them. 

Silas remained on his farm very quietly for 
weeks after this event. Grandfather had 
really frightened him enough for that — as he 
had intended to. Indeed, I do not remem- 
ber seeing Silas again for a year or more, and 
he never came to our house after this to bor- 
row books. Eventually he married the daugh- 
ter of a neighboring farmer, and lived the mo- 
notonous and unmarked life of the average 
dweller among the mountain solitudes, whose 
greatest excitement is the hunting for a miss- 
287 


up the Witch Brook Road 


ing cow, or the shooting of a fox which preys 
upon his hencoop. 

My grandfather at once sent a letter to Mr. 
Holly and Mr. Perrine, and invited them down 
to a jubilee dinner during the next week. 
They came and we had a merry time, clouded 
only by the absence of Aunt Apphia, who was 
afflicted again with one of her sudden head- 
aches, which did not seem to attack her until 
the dinner was well under way and grand- 
mother was sending us all upstairs to dress. 

The young men were in the highest spirits. 
They confessed now that they had not realized 
how deeply they had felt the trying expe- 
riences of the last weeks, until the burden was 
removed by grandfather^s letter. The strange 
facts in the case were repeated again and 
again, with all manner of exclamations and 
witty comments. Grandmother had even to 
check the young people a little and remind 
them that they were talking about a horrible 
tragedy. 

“ Yes, but we have been under a cloud, and 
now we have come into the sunshine, you 
know, Mrs. Wells,” Kichard Perrine explained 
apologetically. You don^t understand what 
we have suffered. Why, we rode through 
288 


A Picnic 


town to-day without meeting a single glance, 
so far as I saw, of dislike or suspicion — a 
thing which we have almost never done before 
— and it was right down pleasant. Some of 
the people even smiled and nodded to us, and 
we smiled and nodded back, I assure you.” 

Grandfather, who was democratic to his 
backbone, seemed delighted with this state- 
ment. 

Yes, those looks were really almost, if not 
quite, the hardest thing we have had to bear 
throughout all of this terrible time,” said 
George Holly. 

When we had gathered in the parlor again, 
he reminded Cousin Calista that David re- 
joiced on his harp whenever he vanquished his 
enemies, and asked her if she would not re- 
joice on hers for awhile, in behalf of her two 
providentially delivered friends. 

After the music there was more talking, and 
then Cousin Calista cried out, “ Oh, why can’t 
we take our supper on the Indian grave to- 
night? It is going to be a grand sunset — 
see how clear it is — and you won’t mind riding 
home in the evening,” she added coquettishly, 
turning toward our guests. 

They looked at each other doubtfully, but 
289 


up the Witch Brook Road 


my grandmother, who had rapidly reviewed, 
in her mind, the contents of the pantry, 
brought them to a favorable decision by re- 
inforcing Cousin Calista’s invitation most cor- 
dially. She retired at once in order to get 
things ready, and soon Aunt Jerry followed 
her. Aunt Jerry thought that nobody could 
make such sandwiches as hers. From time to 
time she came into the parlor on one errand or 
another, flushed, excited and very beautiful. 
Her glowing color, her large, dark, sparkling 
eyes, with the waves of her blue-black hair 
sweeping down her round cheeks and covering 
her little ears, form one of the most charm- 
ing pictures in the galleries of my memory. 

At last she reported that everything was in 
readiness. The luncheon had been packed in 
various small receptacles, so that each of us 
carried one. Shannah bore a hamper, and 
each of the young men appropriated one also. 
Then grandfather suddenly announced that he 
thought he would not go. He had a good deal 
to do, he said, and he did not seem to be in the 
least needed. In fact, grandfather was get- 
ting rather stout, and the climb up the pasture 
hill was not so easy for him as it had once 
been. 


290 


A Picnic 


All of the family began to expostulate. 

“ This affair with Silas has taken an enor- 
mous amount of my time,” explained grand- 
father. More than that, it has taken a vast 
deal of my temper. The thought of that oaf, 
and all the trouble he has made us, has irri- 
tated me almost beyond endurance. I couldn’t 
do my work, it fretted me so much. I have 
three or four troublesome cases coming on soon 
now, and if you don’t mind, I will stay at 
home and work on them.” 

Oh, but we do mind ! ” cried Cousin Ca- 
lista, posing dramatically and shaking her yel- 
low curls. We really need you.” 

Do go, father,” added Aunt J erry. I 
made extra sandwiches for you, and there is 
going to be hot tea.” 

I am in no mood for talking,” insisted 
grandfather, though he was visibly weakening. 

There is one subject you can always talk 
on,” suggested grandmother, with a sly 
twinkle in her eye; ‘'and I am pretty sure 
that you have never discussed it with these 
young men. You are neglecting their educa- 
tion in this regard.” 

Grandfather colored, though he laughed. 
The young ladies fairly shouted. They knew 
291 


up the Witch Brook Road 


perfectly well what grandmother meant. He 
had come across some book or pamphlet upon 
the subject of Melchizedek, in which the au- 
thor, in a long and elaborate argument, proved 
to his own satisfaction that Melchizedek and 
Shem were the same person. Grandfather had 
been greatly impressed with this author’s 
views, and grandmother had laughed at him 
when he had several times become visibly ex- 
cited in laying the matter before more or less 
incredulous visitors. Those of the present 
generation cannot comprehend how absorb- 
ingly interesting questions of this sort were 
to the New Englanders of sixty and seventy 
years ago. 

“ I suppose,” said grandfather, as if de- 
termined to brave it out, “ that you mean that 
very ingenious theory concerning Shem and 
Melchizedek. Interesting as that discussion 
is to you, my dear, I do not propose to afflict 
our young friends with it.” 

I assure you, sir,” declared George Holly, 
“ I shall hardly be satisfied now unless you 
tell me all about it. Indeed,” he added more 
seriously, “ we do wish that you could go with 
us. Dick and I will especially feel it if you 
292 


A Picnic 


do not go, for we are the ones who are really 
at the bottom of the whole trouble. Besides,” 
he added, in a lower tone, “ it seems enough to 
be deprived of the company of your eldest 
daughter, without any further reduction of 
the party.” 

After a little more urging, grandfather con- 
sented to go, but he stipulated that he should 
not be hurried in climbing the hill. 

I will myself undertake to see that your 
wishes are carried out,” laughed George Holly. 

I will walk beside you. Perhaps Miss Bar- 
bara will give me her hand.” 

I was delighted with this proposition, though 
there were those in the family who were not. 
As grandfather was obliged to wait and do 
a little work at his desk before starting, the 
others were a long way ahead of us by the 
time we were crossing the little bridge and 
turning up the steep and stony road (by this 
time dwindled to a tiny cowpath) which 
wound along the brookside; then through 
grand woods; and, last of all, through the 
open pasture, up to the beautiful and romantic 
spot which we called the Indian grave. 

As we started off, Mr. Holly dutifully sug- 

293 


up the Witch Brook Road 


gested that now was a good time to begin the 
revelation of the identity of the two famous 
Scriptural characters who had been men- 
tioned ; but grandfather laughed in an annoyed 
way, and remarked that he should never hear 
the last of it from his family if he should bore 
one of his young guests with his favorite 
topic. 

“ It is really a most ingenious and satis- 
factory piece of historical reasoning,^’ he in- 
sisted, but we will not take it up to-day. I 
should like to be able to say, when they begin 
to tease me about it, that I have not at all en- 
lightened you regarding the subject. I am 
sure that you do not mind. I cannot be mis- 
taken in thinking that your very polite request 
originated in your desire to give me pleasure.” 

George Holly gravely reiterated his individ- 
ual and genuine interest in the subject, but 
grandfather laughed his arguments away, and 
they fell to talking of politics, the mine, 
the trees along the way, and other matters of 
more or less superficial interest. As the ascent 
became gradually harder and harder, and 
grandfather puffed and kept stopping to 
breathe, there were long pauses. Then Mr. 
Holly sometimes set down the hamper which 
294 


A Picnic 


he was carrying, but I kept tight hold of his 
hand. 

Once, as we started onward, the young man 
began in a concerned way, I am sorry, sir, 
to see that Miss Apphia is in such a delicate 
state of health. She seems to have a great 
deal of headache.” 

Does she? ” asked grandfather, with as 
much surprise as grandmother had shown 
under similar circumstances. 

The young man looked at him with a spice 
of impatience in his manner. 

Is it possible,” he exclaimed, “ that you 
have not noticed it? Why, almost every time 
that we have been here, it seems to me, she has 
a headache.” 

“ She never used to have headaches,” argued 
grandfather defensively. ^‘We have always 
considered her uncommonly strong — though 
she is so slight. These headaches that you 
speak of are something new. Why,” he 
added suddenly, they must date back to the 
runaway. She was dreadfully shaken up 
then.” 

^^That is just what had occurred to me,” 
agreed George Holly, looking so seriously dis- 
turbed that I loved him harder than ever. I 

295 


up the Witch Brook Road 


hope she was not internally injured. Had you 
not better have her case thoroughly examined 
by a physician? ” 

I think I had,” said grandfather, nodding 
his dear old head in a rather bewildered way. 
“ I can’t understand why I haven’t noticed 
this. Apphia is always so bright and merry 
that I can’t associate the thought of illness 
with her. Dear, dear! I hope it isn’t any- 
thing very bad.” 

It has troubled me for some time now, 
sir,” said George Holly. I wondered why 
you were not more worried about it.” 

I could have told him — what my astute 
little mind had early detected — that the reason 
why grandfather had been so blind, was be- 
cause Aunt Apphia never had these terrible 
headaches except on the comparatively infre- 
quent occasions when the young men from the 
mine appeared. Dimly I felt, rather than 
understood, the reason for this; but, even if I 
had wished to do it, I could not have explained 
to any one my vague impression. Poor grand- 
father had not the remotest inkling of it. 

Little more was said, for by this time the 
exigencies of the ascent taxed the powers of 
296 


A Picnic 


all three of us, and we plodded along almost 
in silence until we reached the edge of the hill. 
Then the whole of the western view burst upon 
us — a vast expanse of sky, just now rose- 
colored, with gleams of gold here and there, 
and grand peaks outlined against it, their 
sides purple with shadows and streaked with 
light where the sun broke through at in- 
tervals. Between us and them lay the val- 
ley, with its shining river winding through it, 
and the village grouped irregularly beside the 
beautiful stream. Every house, no matter 
how mean and shackly it might be, became a 
snowy little cottage in the distance, and its 
embowering trees were transformed into poetic 
groves. George Holly gave an exclamation of 
delight when he saw it, and we all stood there 
for a moment to take it in. But the others, 
who were a hundred feet or more above us, 
resting placidly upon the beautiful knoll which 
was our objective point, began to yodel and 
shout to us to hurry, and we fared onward. 

“We are starved,” cried Cousin Calista, 
poutingly, as we approached. 

“ But we must rest awhile after that climb 
before eating anything,” puffed grandfather, 

297 


up the Witch Brook Road 


as he sat cautiously down between her and 
grandmother. “ How did you stand it, my 
dear Mrs. Wells? ” 

“ She was a wonder, sir,” replied Kichard 
Perrine for her. “ I must say that she com- 
plained less than the young ladies did, and she 
was hardly willing to stop a moment, no 
matter how Steep the path was.” 

Grandmother was spare and wiry, and a 
splendid climber, and she was greatly pleased 
with the compliment. 

“ I was certainly most carefully attended,” 
she declared graciously. “ Mr. Perrine never 
left my side for an instant.” 

“ Thank you,” said grandfather, deeply 
touched by the young man’s courtesy. 

He did not observe the cloud which lowered 
upon the brow of his pretty niece. Grand- 
mother’s statement had been literally true, and 
the elegant Miss Calista Summers had had to 
trail along behind her with Aunt Jerry and 
Aunt Leah and Elihu Trimble, quite, as it 
were, unhonored and unsung; but the fact 
caused my naughty little soul no compunctions 
whatever. 

The smell of the wintergreen was in the air 
while we made a fire for the tea and ate Aunt 
298 


A Picnic 


Jerry^s dainty sandwiches; and a light wind 
chanted in the birches just above and beyond 
us. 

It is a beautiful spot,” George Holly ex- 
claimed, as we were gathering up the rem- 
nants and packing them away to carry home. 

“Isn’t it!” cried Cousin Calista. “It is 
the loveliest place I know of.” 

“ But I am not sure that I quite like this 
rather alarming precipice,” he continued. He 
stood on the brink a moment and looked down 
on the rough and broken rocks, which extended 
for several rods at the foot of the cliff, with 
here and there a bush or tree springing up 
from between them. 

“ Oh, that is the best part to me,” laughed 
Cousin Calista. “ I hate tame things. I like 
a tang of danger. It is this wild height which 
gives the place its character. I am sure the 
Indians — there used to be lots of Indians in 
this valleyi you know — used to like to come 
up here — and in my soul I am sure that some 
great sachem is buried here. I build stories 
about him whenever I come up.” 


299 


4 



XVI 

A PROBLEM SOLVED 


I know no satisfaction more profound than that we feel 
in the success of a friend, — in the real success of anybody, 
for the matter of that.” 


LowelVs “ Letters, 



CHAPTER XVI 


A Problem Solved 

S OON we entered the woods, and the 
path became dusky and dewy, but 
Cousin Calista did not seem inclined to 
hurry. She was getting closer and closer to 
personal affairs in her talk, and had many 
serious suggestions to make regarding the mine 
and its conduct. 

“ I think it is lovely for you to go into such a 
business as mining,” she said. How did you 
happen to do it? ” 

He explained to her that his father had been 
the owner of a coal mine in the South. He 
had been very successful, but he had died when 
George was a mere boy, and the executor of the 
estate had thought it best to sell the property. 

But I never could forget that mine,” he 
said. “ I always wanted to own a mine, just as 
my father did, and so I studied at the School of 
Mines in New York and resolved to devote my 
life to mining. At that school I met Dick Per- 
rine. We were fast friends during the years 

303 


up the Witch Brook Road 


we were together there, and we have been to- 
gether during the four years since we gradu- 
ated.” 

“ I think he is fine,” languished Cousin Ca- 
lista. All of us like him so much ! He seems 
like a jolly, generous boy.” 

George Holly laughed. 

“ That is just exactly what he is. But he 
thinks that I am too dignified and solemn — so 
it is just as well that I have such a companion 
as he.” 

Oh, I should never think of your being 
solemn ! ” simpered Cousin Calista. “ You are 
just right, I think — not too grave and not too 
jovial.” 

It seemed to me that this open flattery of- 
fended him; but he merely thanked her in a 
perfunctory way, and then recurred to the 
mine. 

“You were speaking of our venture,” he 
said. “ I think I may have mentioned at some 
time when we have been down at your house, 
that Dick^s father has been trying all sorts of 
experiments with our ore.” 

“ Oh, yes,” assented Cousin Calista sweetly. 
“ But Uncle Wells seemed to think that you 
never would be able to do much with it.’^ 


304 


A Problem Solved 


“ Well,” began George Holly, in a confiden- 
tial sort of way, he may be right, but, all the 
same. Miss Summers, our experiments are very 
encouraging lately. You see, I have my small 
laboratory here, and I do everything with it 
that I can. Then, when I find that I haven’t 
the apparatus necessary to go further, I write 
to Mr. Perrine, and he goes right forward. 
I wouldn’t wonder if we should astonish the 
’Squire one of these days.” 

I’m sure I hope so,” sighed Cousin Calista. 

Uncle is the dearest man in the world, but 
Aunt Wells says he doesn’t know the first 
thing about business, so you needn’t feel too 
much discouraged by his opinion.” 

Well,” laughed George Holly, you 
needn’t tell him what I have said. It will be 
best to surprise him.” 

Oh, I hope you will have a very great es- 
tablishment up there before long — hundreds 
of miners, great boarding-houses and rows of 
cottages for your helpers — and that you can 
organize the company in such a way that you 
can run off to Europe or anywhere else when- 
ever you want to. One of my friends at the 
school in Boston which we girls attended, was 
the daughter of a Pennsylvania mine owner, — 

305 


up the Witch Brook Road 


and that is the way they do. It will be a very 
different thing from what it is now.” 

It is going to be somewhat different right 
away from what it is now,” declared George 
Holly with decision. 

How is that? ” inquired Cousin Calista, 
in some alarm. She did not know but he 
meant that he was going away from Hickory. 

Oh, we think we may build a house there 
by spring, and then Dick^s older sister, who is 
devoted to him, may come up and keep house 
for us.” 

How delightful ! ” cried Cousin Calista en- 
thusiastically — too enthusiastically, it seemed 
to me, as I trudged along in the dusk, clasp- 
ing the hand of my beloved Mr. Holly. “ It 
will be charming for us to have another friend 
in Hickory, and I know we shall all like her. 
I hope she will like us.” 

There is no doubt about that,” he rejoined ; 
and then, almost before we knew it, we were 
in the village; and then we were going in 
through the dear old gate, and the rest were 
falling upon us to know if we had been lost, 
and why we had been so slow ; and then Cousin 
Calista put on the most self-conscious and 
silly air, and hesitated and blushed and stam- 
306 


A Problem Solved 


mered out, Oh, we — were — that is — we were 
only — talking, you know — and it was so in- 
teresting I fancy we never thought how fast 
the time was passing — did we, Mr. Holly? ” 

And he looked straight at her, with his 
great, honest brown eyes, and said in the most 
commonplace way, Yes, probably that was 
it. Miss Summers.” 

And still Aunt Apphia had her dreadful 
headache, and could not come down to bid the 
young men good-by. 

The next morning, while I was helping Aunt 
Apphia in the garden (her headache had quite 
vanished). Cousin Calista came out with an 
effusive offer to help, too, and Aunt Apphia 
set her to gathering and tying up seeds and 
marking them. We pottered back and forth 
along the garden path until at last Aunt Ap- 
phia, with a lapful of infinitesimal poppy- 
seeds, invited us to leave everything else and 
sit down beside her under the big tree and 
help her tie them up. It was very warm, and 
we were glad enough to do it. 

When we were fairly seated. Cousin Calista 
began: It was too bad, Affie, that you 

couldn’t go up on the Indian grave last night. 
I don’t know when I have seen such a sunset, 

307 


up the Witch Brook Road 


and the supper tasted awfully good; and the 
young men were uncommonly nice; and you 
ought to have gone.” 

Yes, I was sorry to lose it,” said Aunt Ap- 
phia soberly. 

“ Mr. Holly is so very nice when one really 
knows him,” pursued Cousin Calista. 

Yes? ” rejoined Aunt Apphia coolly. “ I 
don^t feel as if I knew him well at all.” 

No, of course you couldn^t,” commented 
Cousin Calista condescendingly. You have 
had the headache so much when they have 
come down, and then the murder and all — 
why, really, none of us have seen them so very 
much, for those times when we were so excited 
about old Uncle Ezra, didn^t count. We sim- 
ply couldn^t think or talk of anything then. 
But last evening it was different. We had the 
very loveliest talk.” 

Cousin Calista sighed and blushed and 
dropped her eyelashes. One might have in- 
ferred that she had had a proposal of marri- 
age from Mr. Holly, or, at the very least, a 
declaration of love. 

Aunt Apphia murmured something about 
being very glad ” — and tied up poppy-seeds 
as fast as she possibly could. 

308 


A Problem Solved 


Yes,” pursued Cousin Calista sentimen- 
tally, “ there was a good deal that he didn^t 
wish me to mention — his most private affairs 
he talked about — oh, it was so nice to feel that 
he had confidence in me, you know, and all 
that sort of thing ! But I am pretty sure that 
he wouldn^t care if I told you that he is think- 
ing of building a house up at the mine, and 
having Mr. Perrine’s sister come on and keep 
house for them. He is really doing great 
things up there. I hope he will let me tell 
you about it pretty soon, for it is just as 
interesting as it can be; and he thinks he is 
going to make a good deal out of the mine, 
after all. That will surprise Uncle Wells, 
won’t it? ” 

He would like it, though,” said Aunt Ap- 
phia. I am sure I hope the young men will 
make it all pay.” 

This conversation threw me into a still fume 
of indignation. It seemed to me that Cousin 
Calista was not telling the truth, and yet she 
said no one special word that I could find fault 
with. I wanted to confide my irritation to 
Aunt Apphia, but there was about her through 
all of this talk a sort of an impervious mantle 
of dignity. I did not dare, even when we were 

309 


up the Witch Brook Road 


alone together, later, to say anything in con- 
demnation of Cousin Calista. 

It was perhaps a week after our supper on 
the Indian grave that the young men came 
down to make their regulation call. It was 
about three o’clock in the afternoon, and we 
were all assembled as usual in the east room, 
arrayed in our prettiest dimities and lawns, 
with the sewing birds and embroideries and 
reading;^aloud in full operation — but none of 
us were so utterly absorbed in what we were 
doing that we did not keep glancing furtively 
out toward the western horizon, and listening 
for footsteps on the bridge. Every one of us 
heard the first tap which was made there by 
the fine white horse and the bay — and then 
the young men dashed up to the door. 

It was plain to see at once that they were 
again in uncommonly high spirits. Richard 
Perrine was even more full than usual of his 
jokes and laughter, and there was a smiling 
and, in a way, triumphant air about Mr. Holly 
which quite transformed his serious — almost 
too serious — expression. But for some mo- 
ments after their arrival, they did not say any- 
thing concerning whatever had happened to 
elate them. They touched upon the usual 
310 


A Problem Solved 


topics only, and Mr. Holly seemed greatly 
troubled because Aunt Appbia again sent in 
her excuses. She had started for her room as 
soon as we had heard them coming. She said 
that she did not feel equal to seeing anybody. 
She was dreadfully tired,” and, as she had 
been helping grandmother about her pickling 
all the morning, her weariness was a reason- 
able enough pretext. Mr. Holly was disap- 
pointed also because grandfather was out of 
town. 

‘‘We have some important news, we think,” 
he said, with a manner which indicated sup- 
pressed excitement. “We are really going to 
get something worth while out of our fooPs 
gold.” 

“Are you, indeed?” inquired grandmother, 
with genuine interest. She was of an emi- 
nently practical turn, and had been even more 
disturbed than the rest of us at the apparent 
futility of the young men’s efforts. 

“ Yes,” he replied, with conviction. “ Dick’s 
father and we here have been co-operating in 
our experiments, and we have clearly demon- 
strated that there is sufficient sulphur in our 
ore to pay for mining it, provided that we can 
separate it at a trifling expense. We have 

311 


up the Witch Brook Road 


known for a long time that we had a great 
deal of sulphur in the ore, and sulphur is so 
much used, in its various forms, in the arts and 
manufactures, that I have built great hopes on 
it, though Dick here has not much encouraged 
me.” 

Mr. Perrine laughed, and colored a little. 

But his father has had more confidence in 
me, and has kept a good chemist busy in fol- 
lowing out such experiments as I have sug- 
gested, and instituting others of his own, until 
at last we feel justified in saying that we know 
we can make a good profit on the mine — by 
the separation of the sulphur — and we are go- 
ing almost immediately to very considerably 
enlarge our facilities, employ more men, build 
more houses — oh, we are going to have a great 
establishment — like that which you foretold. 
Miss Summers. I reckon you will live to be 
proud of us yet.” 

Grandmother and the others broke into a 
torrent of congratulations and questions, and 
in the midst of them, grandfather arrived 
and the whole story had to be retold to 
him. His broad, benevolent face fairly 
beamed with his delight, and he shook hands 
with both of the young men again and again. 

312 


A Problem Solved 


^^This means that you will become perma- 
nent citizens of the town of Hickory, does it 
not? ” he asked in conclusion. 

“We hope so,” replied George Holly, with 
a face quite as bright. 

“ That is good,” pronounced my grand- 
father, in his most Websterian manner. “We 
want such men as you up in this part of the 
State. It takes a little while for strangers to 
gain the confidence of a community — but you 
will soon get it here, very soon — all the sooner, 
because our people, I feel sure, realize fully 
that they have done you injustice, and they 
are at heart eager to set the wrong right. I 
predict that you will, both of you, be Select- 
men of Hickory ere long, then members of the 
Great and General Court, then possibly Con- 
gressmen — and, by and by, it will occur to 
the powers that be that a Governor ought to 
be chosen from our part of the State. Oh, I 
see no limit to the ambitions which may rea- 
sonably be awakened in your hearts upon 
taking up your residence in the proud and 
happy town of Hickory.” 

Then there was much more laughter and 
merriment. When a pause occurred at last, 
George Holly (the spokesman, as usual), said, 

313 


TJp the Witch Brook Road 


with much seriousness : It is now time that 
I should broach to you what is really the main 
object of this visitation. It must seem natural 
to you that we should desire to celebrate the 
good fortune which has befallen us by some- 
thing rather out of the common. We have 
therefore decided that you must all of you 
gather up your forces and collect your de- 
fences, and prepare to undertake the fatigu- 
ing and dangerous journey, so long contem- 
plated, to the famous FooFs Gold Mine, in the 
town of Hickory. The proprietors of the said 
mine, being about to demolish most of the 
crude and elementary and inadequate struc- 
tures which have heretofore served to carry 
on this vast project, wish to show them to you 
first. Thus you may see exactly how we 
have been situated in these days of small 
things. We therefore hope that you may be 
able to drive up there for a picnic some day 
soon. How would next Wednesday do? 

Well,’’ began grandfather, who was evi- 
dently still a trifle doubtful about undertak- 
ing so long and arduous a pleasure trip, even 
after Mr. Holly’s grandiloquent invitation; 
the young people — ” 


314 


A Problem Solved 


“ Oh, but we want you, sir,” broke in Rich- 
ard Perrine. 

“Yes, we want you all,” added George 
Holly. “And that is one of the conditions. 
If any member of the family has a headache 
or from any other cause is unable to come on 
the appointed day, the picnic is to be post- 
poned. We want you all — and we especially 
want Miss Apphia.” 

“We are going right down to invite Mr. 
Trimble,” remarked Richard Perrine. “And 
is there anybody else whom you would like 
to include? ” 

“ Elihu has a college classmate visiting 
him,” suggested Aunt Leah. “And possibly 
another may come during the week.” 

“We shall be most happy to invite them 
both.” . 

It was decided that there was nobody else. 
The day was convenient, and upon counting 
up the resources of the two families in the way 
of horses and vehicles, it was found that the 
rest of us could drive up comfortably in 
Elihu’s, and our carry-alls, if Cousin Calista 
should ride Lady Jane, as she was more than 
willing to do. 


315 


up the Witch Brook Road 


And you are not to bring anything to eatp 
were Richard Perrine’s last words as he bade 
grandmother good-by at the door. “We shall 
spread the table in a grove near by.” 

It had also been especially stipulated by 
the young men that Shannah should accom- 
pany the family, for they had seen how much 
we thought of her and how worthy she was of 
our affection. She had been called in from 
the kitchen and solicitously invited in person 
by Mr. Holly. It is needless to say that Shan- 
nah rose grandly to the occasion. She ac- 
cepted, after a thoughtful moment, in which 
she appeared to be enumerating to herself her 
many engagements; and after a dutiful refer- 
ence to her mistress. 

“ An’ it’s kind ye are, gintlemin, to be afther 
thinkin’ of poor Shannah O’ Flaherty,” she 
said with quaint courtesy. “ It’ll be a glad 
day for me, sure, whin I do be havin’ the great 
picnic, with the young ladies an’ all, Mrs. 
Wells bein’ willin’, an’ I do be thankful for 
your beneficial invitation.” 

We had all known that Shannah would not 
let such an opportunity slip, without bringing 
forth from her store some very mellifiuous 
word. 


316 


A Problem Solved 


When the invitation was later conveyed to 
Aunt Apphia, she said at once that she hoped 
it would be a lovely day and that we all must 
go, but that she really did not feel equal to 
such a hard trip and would stay at home. 

“ Oh, but you must go ! ” I assured her. 

Mr. Holly said the picnic would be post- 
poned and postponed until everybody could 
go. He wants everybody, and he said he must 
have you.’’ 

‘‘ Oh, no, he didn’t say that,” she protested 
with a half-scornful, half-grieved quiver of 
her lip. 

“Yes, he did say just that,” I insisted. 
“ And you must go, for I want to go, and I 
can’t have a good time unless you go.” 

Grandfather was more practical. He called 
Aunt Apphia one morning into the east room, 
whither, with me clinging to her, as usual, she 
obediently resorted. 

“ How is it about these headaches, Ap- 
phia? ” he asked severely. “ I have been 
watching for them, since Mr. Holly spoke of 
them with some alarm; but you have not 
seemed to have them, queerly enough, except 
when he was down here. Do you feel as if 
they were in any way connected with the run- 
317 


up the Witch Brook Road 


away? Did you get some hurt then that you 
are concealing from me? ” 

The shadow of a smile flitted across Aunt 
Apphia^s face, but she answered, demurely 
enough, “ No, father, I think I have quite re- 
covered from whatever harm I suffered then.” 

Then you don’t think you had better go 
over to Dr. Bates, and have him examine 
you? ” suggested grandfather tentatively. 

Mercy, no ! ” cried Aunt Apphia. What 
should have put such an idea into your head, 
father? ” 

“ Oh, — I have felt worried lest you should 
have sustained some internal injury, — and 
these mysterious headaches seemed to bear 
out that theory.” 

“ They have not been bad, — not bad at all,” 
poor Aunt Apphia assured him. 

“ I am very glad to hear it. And you think 
you will be able to undertake the trip to 
Hickory on Wednesday? ” 

“ I don’t want to go, — but of course, if you 
think I ought to, I will.” 

“You don’t want to go?” Grandfather 
looked at her with a puzzled expression, not 
unmixed with real worry. 

“ No,” she repeated, trying to speak lightly, 

318 


A Problem Solved 


but not perfectly succeeding. “ I am very much 
interested just now in my work at home here, 
— and you know I am older than the others, — 
and these diversions seem more suited to them 
than to me. But of course I will go, if you 
think best, — though I must say I shall not 
look forward to it with any special pleasure.” 

Yes, — you had better go,” he said de- 
cidedly, though his eyes still looked cloudy 
and troubled behind his big, silver-bowed 
spectacles. 

So it was settled; and when the appointed 
Wednesday dawned, a fine, breezy August 
day, full of hints of September, we were all 
packed into the two carry-alls, while Cousin 
Calista, in her green habit and long white 
feathers, rode beside us on her pretty pony. 
Elihu had two strong horses and his open 
carry-all had three seats, so that our whole 
party rode comfortably, and we were all 
a-quiver with excitement and anticipation. 


319 



XVII 

A SYLVAN SCENE 


When they do have taste, when they are not color-blind, 
I tell you men have the best taste going. None of your fem- 
inine prettiness and fussiness and clutter and toggery. They 
set us an example. They are severe and simple and dignified.’ 

“ Jfj’s. Biahee ” in “ The Petrie Estate.** 


J 







CHAPTER XVII 


A Sylvan Scene 

G randfather had been persuaded 
to ride with Elihu, and Aunt Apphia 
drove Tansy. She and grandmother 
and I occupied the front seat, while Shannah 
and Aunt Jerry sat behind. Aunt Jerry was 
in almost hilarious spirits, and, in spite of the 
fact that Aunt Apphia was inclined to be 
sober when we first set out, the fine air and 
Aunt elerry^s contagious glee affected her so 
that she was soon laughing, just as she had 
used to before the runaway and the murder 
and the other events of this strange summer. 
We had all been quieter than usual, and Aunt 
Apphia had had even more to subdue her 
spirits than the rest of us, as I, especially, 
could understand. In later years I could see 
that she had had much more than any of us 
could possibly have imagined. 

Shortly after we had turned off into the 
Witch Brook road, and passed the scene of 

323 


up the Witch Brook Road 


the tragedy which had so vitally concerned us 
all, we saw the young men riding down the 
hill to meet us. Aunt Jerry and Cousin Ca- 
lista had begged them to wear their mining 
clothes — the very ones in which they had first 
appeared to us beside the brook. But perhaps 
this had been too great a sacrifice for their 
vanity, or perhaps they had thought that my 
grandparents might feel that such array would 
hardly be respectful ; certainly, they were 
dressed, if not exactly in the same garb, still 
with as much care, as though they were bound 
for the Court of St. James. 

Their faces were glowing with pleasure as 
they came nearer and perceived that all of 
their requests had been complied with. They 
took off their hats especially to Shannah, and 
gave her particular greeting. 

“ Isn’t the weather fine ! ” cried Kichard 
Perrine. “ I knew it couldn’t rain when we 
had made so many plans — but George here 
was skeptical, as usual. He is the worst pessi- 
mist, Miss Jerry! You want to labor with 
him.” 

“ I never thought of such a thing ! ” declared 
Cousin Calista, reining up her pretty pony and 
gazing with her archest expression at George 

324 


A Sylvan Scene 


Holly, who was peering in at our carriage- 
load, his eyes full of pleasure. 

At her words he turned toward her courte- 
ously, doffed his hat, and thanked her. 

Dick confounds common sense with pessi- 
mism,” he explained gaily. “ A great many 
people do that. I simply have common sense 
— and the clouds last evening did augur possi- 
ble storms, but now that you are so nearly up 
to the mine, I shouldn't so much deprecate a 
storm. We could protect you.” 

I hope we shall not have a shower,” cried 
grandmother, who was starched and embel- 
lished after the very latest ideas in the “ Lady^s 
Book,” and could not bear the thought of hav- 
ing her finery wet. 

Oh, you won’t get wet, mother,” Aunt Ap- 
phia assured her, and we drove on up the hill. 

The young men informed us that we were 
to inspect the mine before eating our lunch. 
In order to do this with the least walking, we 
took a roundabout course from the Lathers 
place ; returning there again before proceeding 
up the hill. We found it, or I did, very un- 
interesting. The big, dark hole in the ground, 
with a ladder going down into it, and ropes 
dangling here and there; the creaking of 

325 


up the Witch Brook Road 


the derrick ; the very dirty hands and faces 
and clothes of the four or five miners; the 
rough shanty that they lived in — all of 
these were rather displeasing than otherwise 
to my fastidious taste. But my grand- 
father looked at everything minutely, and 
asked a thousand questions, which the 
young men answered with an enthusiasm 
that surprised me. Cousin Calista was 
even more demonstrative. She alighted 
from Lady Jane, having called Mr. Holly to 
her assistance with an air of pretty proprietor- 
ship — and darted here and there, with all 
manner of exclamations and questions. 

Oh, what is this funny machine? ” she 
would cry, and What do you do down 
there?” and Isn’t this fascinating, Leah? 
Oh, I love it ! It must be perfectly bewitching 
to do this sort of thing ! ” 

All of us got out and looked around very 
thoroughly for fifteen minutes or more. Then 
we climbed into our seats again, and plodded 
onward. 

When we came to a point from which we 
could see the Jed Sears farmhouse perched on 
its hillside, the young men pointed it out to 
us, and showed us the windows of their sleep- 
326 


A Sylvan Scene 


ing-rooms, describing the views which they 
commanded. Grandmother told us that, when 
she was a little girl, her father had once taken 
her up there when he went to buy a cow, and 
that the house was then an old one. It dated 
back, the young men said, to Revolutionary 
days — but it would soon be resolved by the 
hand of Time into its original elements, and 
they proposed to escape from it before it 
should tumble down upon their heads. They 
did not intend to take us up there, but to a 
grove a half-mile or so further up the hill. So 
we fared onward. 

Presently we turned off into a wood road, 
and for forty or more rods rode slowly forward 
under overhanging boughs of lofty, primeval 
forest trees, until we came to a grassy 
dell, in which had been set up the prettiest 
imaginable tent. It had dainty little awnings, 
scalloped in red. The flaps in front were 
turned back, and revealed, amid all sorts of 
woodland decorations, a large table which 
looked most inviting to our famished eyes. A 
mossy spring gushed out from a hillside not 
far away, and this, after all, was the most 
welcome sight that met my eyes, for I was 
perishing with thirst. All of us were gathered 

327 


up the Witch Brook Road 


soon around the spring. To this day it seems 
to me that a sweeter draught I never tasted 
than that which Mr. Holly dipped for me, 
with a little silver cup, from that bubbling, 
moss-set chalice. 

Jed Sears and his wife bustled about, carry- 
ing out what must have been previously given 
orders. So perfectly had our hosts planned 
every arrangement that we heard them 
give scarcely any directions ; yet presently we 
were summoned to take our places around the 
table, where everything was beautifully ar- 
ranged. It was patent to us all that the execu- 
tive ability of much more subtle and sophisti- 
cated beings than poor Jed and his wife must 
have been exercised to reach such a result. 
Flags were draped over our heads. Rustic 
seats were provided for everybody. Sprays of 
wild flowers and berries were laid all over the 
coarse, but very clean, white tablecloth. 
Around the dishes were twisted vines and 
evergreens — and such dishes! They were of 
plain and common ware for the most part — 
but their contents were new and wonderful to 
us all. We partook first of savory roasted 
chickens and delicate sandwiches, which 
rivaled even those that Aunt Jerry was ac- 
328 


A Sylvan Scene 


customed to make. Hot tea and coffee were 
brought in for those who liked them, while 
iced lemonade flowed in abundance for the rest 
of us. 

The conversation was very gay. Everybody, 
even to my grandmother, was in extravagant 
spirits — everybody except Aunt Apphia. She 
was quieter than I had ever seen her, but all 
the others were so happy and excited that her 
mood had no effect upon the general gayety. 
I saw Mr. Holly several times looking at her 
with a troubled expression; but he was so 
busy, and had so many questions to answer, 
and so much bantering persiflage to meet, 
that he could not attend very closely to any 
single guest. 

There was only once when any sort of a 
hush fell upon the company. I have heard my 
Aunt Apphia remark many times, during the 
years since then, that it was a little thing; 
but every one who was there on that eventful 
day recalled it afterward with bitter sorrow. 

There had recently been a wedding in a fa- 
mous family, and Aunt Jerry had been read- 
ing about it in the “Home Journal.’^ She 
described it with great zest. There had been 
an open-air festival, and the ceremony had 

329 


Vp the Witch Brook Road 


taken place in the woods, under a great arch 
of evergreens. It had been like a marriage in 
some great English household. 

That is the way I mean to be married ! ” 
declared Aunt Jerry gaily. 

Yes, but this isn^t the man she was en- 
gaged to at first,’^ said Aunt Leah. Don’t 
you remember reading about it? She was en- 
gaged to the son of So-and-So, and it seems 
she is a bold kind of girl — I suppose she thinks 
that anybody so rich as she is isn’t bound by 
the same rules that other people have to mind 
— and she went and called on him once — it 
was some errand or other — and he was very 
indignant. He said it was a most immodest 
thing, and the match was broken off. Then 
she went right away — out of spite, I judge — 
and married this young fellow — nothing like 
so nice, they say, as the first one. I don’t 
know why the first one should have been so 
angry. He couldn’t have been much in love 
with her, I should think. That doesn’t seem 
like such a dreadful thing to me.” 

“ Well, it was pretty bad,” remarked Rich- 
ard Perrine, half laughing, but very much in 
earnest. In society in the city a girl could 

330 


A Sylvan Scene 


hardly do anything which would bring more 
contempt upon her than to go alone to call 
upon a young man. It would be social 
suicide.” 

Suddenly I caught George Holly^s expres- 
sion as he gazed fixedly at his friend, and then 
I noticed Cousin Calista’s face. It had grown 
perfectly white. The corners of her mouth 
dropped, and her blue eyes dilated. Kichard 
Perrine came to himself, as it were, with a 
jerk. He stopped speaking, and then fol- 
lowed an instant of disagreeable silence. It 
was broken by the voice of George Holly say- 
ing, in his easiest way, “ I want you to be sure, 
Mrs. Wells, to taste these Chinese nuts. Try 
one, I beg of you; then don’t eat any more 
unless you like it. But we are very fond of 
them.” 

Then the gayety began again, and it con- 
tinued afterward without pause. 

The substantial features of the meal were 
familiar to us, but after they had been dis- 
posed of, we were offered the strange confec- 
tions and conserves which ornamented the 
table from end to end — most remarkable jel- 
lies and fruits and candies and nuts — and all 

331 


up the Witch Brook Road 


of them so good that grandmother at last took 
me under her wing, and declared that Aunt 
Apphia, who had been very indulgent to me, 
would let me fall ill. In fact, when the lunch- 
eon was over and we scattered to stroll about 
the beautiful woods, I began to have throbbing 
pains in my temples, and Aunt Apphia sat 
down with me under a great tree and held my 
head, while grandmother dosed me with soda 
and water. She was a believer in the universal 
merits of soda, and never went off for the day 
without carrying a little bottle of it in the 
silk bag which was an essential part of her 
excursion outfit. 

We were sitting quite out of sight of the 
pretty little pavilion in which we had taken 
our lunch, though it was really only a few 
rods away. Mr. Holly had spread a blanket 
on the ground for us, and grandmother was 
just saying how comfortable she was, when 
Mr. Perrine came rushing up to tell us that 
the others were about starting for the witch’s 
house. 

“ You will all want to go,” he urged. It is 
really the sight of the region. It is said to be 
a hundred years old, but everything around 
this poor little log cabin is just as the witch 

332 


A Sylvan Scene 


left it when she died, and that was before Jed 
Sears was born.” 

“ Oh, I have heard of that house ever since 
I can remember,” said grandmother with con- 
siderable interest, “ but Mr. Holly has fixed 
us up so comfortably here that I do not feel 
much like stirring. How far away is it? ” 

It isn’t far,” the young man went on per- 
suasively, and we mean to walk slowly. 
Miss Jerry and I are going to botanize on the 
way, and you shall stop all you like to rest; 
but, really, it would be too bad for you to go 
away without seeing our great show.” 

Well,” assented grandmother, yielding 
gracefully to his importunities, and quite 
overcome by the subtle fiattery conveyed in his 
anxiety to secure her company ; “ we had bet- 
ter go. Come, Apphia.” 

I began to cry. 

I can’t go, grandma!” I wailed. My 
head aches so and I am so dizzy that I can’t 
walk.” 

I don’t feel quite right myself,” added 
Aunt Apphia., kissing my hot forehead. “ I 
can come up again almost any time, so don’t 
consider me for a moment. You go on with 
Mr. Perrine, mother, and I will stay here and 

333 


up the Witch Brook Road 


look after this poor little girl. As I am the 
one who let her eat all that stuff, I am the one 
who ought to take care of her.’^ 

After some expostulation on the part of Mr. 
Perrine, Aunt Apphia carried her point, and, 
to my great relief, she and I were left alone 
in peace and comfort under the shady tree. 
She stroked my burning head, and soon I be- 
gan to feel better. Not a sound was to be 
heard except the subdued rattle of the dishes, 
which was far enough away to be only a 
pleasant murmur in my ears ; and occasionally 
we could catch a bit of the somewhat high- 
pitched conversation which Jed Sears and his 
wife were carrying on with Shannah, who had 
insisted on helping them in the clearing away 
of the table, as she had equally insisted upon 
sharing the luncheon with them, instead of 
with us. Shannah had strong old-country 
ideas regarding station and privilege. 

Soothed by all of these favorable conditions, 
I was fast falling asleep, when I felt a sudden 
shock run through Aunt Apphia’s frame. She 
controlled this in an instant, but it was fol- 
lowed by a violent trembling which she was 
powerless to stop. I opened my eyes and saw 
that the cause of her trepidation was a figure 

334 


A Sylvan Scene 


which was running rapidly toward us. It was 
that of Mr. George Holly. He was carrying 
his hat in his hand and was almost breathless 
from his haste. 


335 


XVIII 

AN ANNOUNCEMENT 


** He had a most persuasive behavior.” 

Izaak Walton of Sir Henry Wotton 

Sometimes mortals find the portals 
Of the fairy-land; 

And they straightway, through the gateway, 
Enter, hand in hand.” 

From ** Concerning Isabel Carnaby" 


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CHAPTER XVIII 


An Announcement 


S he neared ns, he slackened his speed. 



Aunt Apphia had felt me stirring 


^ uneasily. Now she leaned down and 
whispered in my ear, Go to sleep, Barbara. 
It is only Mr. Holly. It frightened me at first 
— for I was nearly asleep, too. Go right to 
sleep, darling.” 

I curled up again and obediently shut my 
eyes — but I did not go to sleep, not I, and I 
have since told Aunt Apphia that I did not, 
but that was years afterward, and she only 
laughed. 

“ I seem to have thwarted your designs for 
once,” he cried in a suppressed voice, as he 
threw himself down beside us. 

^‘What is it?” she murmured, pretending 
not to notice what he had said. Is any- 
thing the matter? Has— has — anything gone 
wrong? ” 

Yes,” he replied in a low voice, but hotly. 

Something has gone very wrong. Why do 
you avoid me? What have I done? Is it be- 


339 


up the Witch Brook Road 


cause you dislike me so much, that you never 
appear when we go down to the village? 

Aunt Apphia buried her face in her hands 
and said nothing — but I could feel her still 
trembling like a leaf. 

Well,” he said bitterly, I can’t help it. 
I have done everything I could think of to 
make you like ma I did not mean to say any- 
thing about it to-day — ^indeed, I didn’t see how 
I was going to get any chance; but since it 
has happened so, I am going to tell you that, 
ever since that day by the brook down here, I 
have loved you, and it is a love that has only 
grown with every time that I have seen you. I 
thought at first that you might come to love 
me in return — but lately I can see that you 
have changed. It has cost me many sleepless 
nights and much wretchedness, but I suppose 
that is nothing to you. I understand that you 
have had troops of lovers — and probably you 
a, re used to a recital of their woes — so I will 
not bore you any more with mine. Only, I 
wish you would tell me what I have done to 
make you treat me so? There must have been 
something. What have I done? ” 

His tone was so fiercely insistent that she 
was obliged to answer him, but all that she 
340 


An Announcement 


could do was to murmur through her closed 
hands. 

“ Nothing — oh, you have done nothing at all 
to displease me.” 

Then a tear dropped on my face. It had 
oozed out between her fingers. She was cry- 
ing — and my little heart began to beat more 
furiously than ever. I longed to comfort her, 
but I did not dare to stir, and still I lay there, 
miserably feigning to be asleep. 

Then, if I have done nothing,” he went on, 
still angry, but gradually getting back his 
usual manner of immovable dignity, “ tell me 
why you treat me so.” 

Aunt Apphia now began to sob, and he saw 
that she could not speak to him if she would. 
Her agitation broke down the last bulwark of 
his caution. He threw his arm around her 
with a single impulsive movement. As I was 
lying on the ground on the other side of her, 
with my head in her lap, this would have dis- 
lodged me from my position if I had been a 
less determined sleeper. 

“ Don't, Apphia! Don't sob so, darling! ” he 
whispered in her ear. “I didn't mean to 
speak to-day— I know I am not wise to do it ; 
it would serve me right if you should not listen 

341 


up the Witch Brook Road 


to me — but I love you so, Appbia! I have 
loved you ever since I first saw you. You must 
have seen it. I didn^t try to conceal it. I was 
going to speak with your father about it, but I 
couldn’t before we had made a fairly certain 
success with the mine — don’t you see? I 
thought he considered me a feather-headed 
visionary — or worse — but now I feel as if I 
might ask him for you as soon as a good chance 
offers. I can’t see you suffer so, for I love 
you with all my heart, and I don’t care who 
knows it.” 

And all this while my weeping Aunt Ap- 
phia, who was probably the most perfectly 
proper maiden that ever lived, was lying with 
her head on Mr. Holly’s shoulder without 
making the slightest effort to get away. This 
fact appeared to impart courage to her lover’s 
heart, though she was still unable to utter a 
coherent word. 

I shall have to say as they do in stories, 
Apphia,” he remarked presently. “ I can’t 
stand it very long without knowing how you 
feel. If you love me, please press my hand.” 

She began to laugh, though rather hysteri- 
cally. Then she straightened herself and lifted 
her hands to arrange her hair. I could see 

34 ^ 


An Announcement 


through my half -open eyes that her face was 
flushed and that, in spite of her tears, she was 
smiling. 

“ I am sure this is not according to eti- 
quette,” she whispered archly. It is not 
proper to invite people to your house and then 
declare love to them.” 

But he saw that, for whatever reason she 
had avoided him in the past, it was not be- 
cause she did not love him, and then he kissed 
her, — in what seemed to me a most foolish and 
unnecessary manner, — at least a hundred 
times. 

Presently the sound of voices was heard in 
the distance — not those of the servitors in the 
tent, but of the gay visitors to the witches 
house. Aunt Apphia pushed George Holly 
away, and began again to twist her disordered 
ringlets and arrange anew her tortoise-shell 
combs. This was well, for they were much 
awry. 

And we must be married at once, Apphia,” 
he insisted hurriedly, ‘‘just as soon as pos- 
sible — ^just as soon as I can get a house built 
to put you in — and I am going to tell them all 
— tell them right away, and ask your father 
for you before them all.” 

343 


up the Witch Brook Road 


Oh, not to-day — not now ! ” she begged. 

Why not? Don’t you think your father 
will like it? Oh, I am sure he will not hold 
out against us. I can give him letters, you 
know, from people in Boston and the 
South ” 

I am sure he will not object,” she whis- 
pered. He has always liked you. But the 
others! Oh, it doesn’t seem as if you had 
better.” 

“ They are just the family — my family now 
as much as yours,” he urged. “ It seems to me 
we couldn’t have a better time — it would be 
the crowning touch to this perfect day. Why 
not? ” 

It doesn’t seem like you,” she whispered 
feebly. You are always so calm and self- 
contained. It seems to me that this is too 
showy and dramatic — almost silly.” 

Not at all,” he affirmed, decidedly. “ I 
would tell the whole world if I could. I am 
so proud of you and so happy that nothing 
else is in my mind but you — and my own hap- 
piness. I have been through so much — all this 
uncertainty — and then your not seeing me. 
Why, Apphia, I have suffered torture, and 
344 


An Announcement 


now the revulsion has come and you must let 
me have my way.” 

As the party came nearer and nearer, Aunt 
Apphia roused me, pretending to be covered 
with compassion for breaking into my deep 
and impenetrable slumbers. My headache 
was by this time quite forgotten, and I was 
palpitating with the delight of the situation. 
My dear Aunt Apphia and my hero, Mr. Holly, 
were at last brought together — a consumma- 
tion which I had lately quite despaired of. 
And, of course, I had to walk close beside her 
as Mr. Holly, still carrying his hat in his left 
hand, drew her forward to meet the oncoming 
procession. 

Oh, I am afraid ! I am afraid ! ” she 
whispered, in almost a wail, and she began to 
draw backward. 

Afraid of what? ” he asked. “ What are 
you afraid of, Apphia? ” 

She could not have told him; but years 
afterward she confided to me that, in a vague 
yet real way, she was afraid of just what hap- 
pened later — a terrible nightmare of memory, 
which to this day sometimes makes me shriek 
and start up in my sleep. But she did not 

345 


up the Witch Brook Road 


answer him, and he still drew her forward, 
with me dragging along behind her. 

My grandfather walked in advance, with 
Cousin Calista, whose self-satisfied face did 
not wear at all its usual expression. She 
looked sober and even saturnine, though my 
grandfather was talking earnestly, as though 
telling her a story. Behind him trooped ir- 
regularly the rest of the party. With the ex- 
ception of a college-mate of Elihu’s, who 
seemed just now to be devoting himself to 
grandmother, the party consisted entirely of 
our own family. Grandfather started nerv- 
ously when he looked up and perceived George 
Holly leading Aunt Apphia forward. She 
had regained her composure by this time, and 
held her head erect, with a shy pride which 
was very beautiful, though her eyes were still 
somewhat discolored with her tears. 

Please stop, Mr. Wells,” he said in a joyous 
tone, which was in itself enough to reveal the 
news. “ I have a favor to ask of you — and 
I am so sure you will grant it that I want 
you all to stop and hear me.” 

He lifted his hand and laughed aloud as he 
spoke. Richard Perrine was as inveterate a 
laugher as my Aunt Jerry herself, but it wa§ 
346 


An Announcement 


seldom that his friend was ever heard to laugh 
aloud, though his smile was one of the most 
charming that I ever saw. This laugh, there- 
fore, arrested the attention of the whole com- 
pany. They all stopped short in the midst of 
their talk and grouped themselves in eager, 
expectant silence around George Holly and 
Aunt Apphia, standing hand-in-hand, like a 
pair of rural sweethearts at a country fair. 

“ It is only this, sir,” continued George 
Holly, still laughing. His handsome face was 
lifted up, and the light wind blew a stray lock 
across his fine forehead. I have lived over that 
scene a thousand times. 

It is only this,” he said. Apphia has 
promised to marry me, as soon as you will let 
her. Will you set the seal of your approval 
upon us? I know I don^t deserve it, but I 
want it just the same — and we hope that you 
will have no objection.” 

“ Is it possible! ” exclaimed my grandfather, 
pulling out his great red silk handkerchief 
and beginning to mop his bald forehead. Is 
it possible ! ” he repeated in a dazed way. 

<^I shall insist upon supplying you with 
references to various well-known people in 
Boston and elsewhere,” continued George 
347 


up the Witch Brook Road 


Holly, still in the same laughing strain, re- 
garding my ability to support her, and my 
character generally. I feel a fair degree of 
confidence that they will prove satisfactory.” 

So this was why you saved her life! ” said 
grandfather, with a twinkle in his eye. Well, 
as you intimate, I don’t know very much about 
you, but I like what I do know, and until 
I hear more to your disadvantage than I now 
expect to, I shall enter no opposition to your 
scheme. Take her, my dear boy. If she will 
only make you as good a wife as her mother 
has made me, you will be very happy with her. 
Apphia, my precious girl, God bless you ! ” 
His hands were trembling with happy emotion 
as he laid them on her beautiful auburn hair. 
Then he kissed her on both her cheeks, and 
stood aside to let the others have their way. 

Then such kissing, such embracing, such 
handshaking! And Cousin Calista was one 
of the most violently demonstrative of all, 
kissing Aunt Apphia a dozen times, at least, 
and laughing more loudly and talking more 
rapidly than anybody else. 

Later, I heard George Holly conversing con- 
fidentially with grandmother. I was close by 
him, leaning on Aunt Apphia’s knees. We 
348 


An Announcement 


were waiting for the carriages. The gale of 
congratulations had died down, and Aunt Ap- 
phia, with her arm around me, was sitting at 
the base of a great willow tree, with her head 
against its trunk. Her eyes were closed, and 
though there was a happy smile on her lips, 
her face was deathly pale. She has told me 
since that the horror of some impending dis- 
aster hung over her at that very moment, 
though she had no prevision of the real nature 
of what was to come. 

“You see, Mrs. Wells,” George Holly was 
saying, with a loose-flowing tongue, very 
strange to hear in him, “ you see, I have had a 
terrible summer. We were greatly delighted 
to And you all, and I loved Apphia from the 
moment I saw her, and I hoped that soon — not 
for a while, of course, but after I had had time 
to show her something of my heart — she would 
be ready to love me. But she suddenly de- 
veloped those dreadful headaches of hers, and 
would not give me so much as a glimpse of 
her, and then I was sure that she had taken 
a dislike to me, and I cast about for the 
reason, but I could not find it. I had en- 
deavored to be just as agreeable to her as I 
could, and if I had not succeeded up to that 

349 


tip the Witch Brook Road 


time, how could I ever hope to later? But 
she says she had a reason for avoiding me, 
which she will sometime tell me, so I am wait- 
ing patiently for that. Then there was the 
tragedy down here, and the long mystery; oh, 
I have sometimes felt as though there wasn’t 
much to live for. Then I would think of her, 
— the only woman that I ever wanted to 
marry, Mrs. Wells, — and I would resolve that 
I would not give her up without a struggle. 
Well, I hope never to have another such a 
season.” 

Grandmother laughed, and gave him some 
of the excellent advice which she always kept 
abundantly in store, and soon we were all 
packed again into our carriages and rattling 
down the long hills and beside the fascinating 
river to our homes. For my part, I felt as 
though I were in a dream, as we sped along 
those golden ways, never so beautiful before. 
It seemed as though we had been living a 
fairy-tale, and as though when we reached 
home and put on our workaday garments 
again, we should find it all to be the baseless 
fabric of a vision. 

Cousin Calista had insisted upon riding 
close beside us all the way, for which I was 

350 


An Announcement 


sorry; why, I could not have told, unless it 
was because of the old, constant antipathy to 
her which I had always felt. 

I need not have feared that she would say 
unkind things, or reckless and shocking things, 
as she sometimes did, not being blest with 
that gift of innate refinement which was the 
dower of every one of my beautiful young 
aunts. She scarcely spoke through all the 
dreamy, pictured ride, until we entered the 
village street. Then her demeanor changed. 
She began to talk as fast as she could, and it 
was all about Mr. Holly and Aunt Apphia, 

To think, Afifie ! ” she chirped in her most 
enthusiastic tones. You will be Mrs. Holly 
soon! I’m sure it is delightful — ^very. I 
wonder now if ‘ Cousin George ’ can afford to 
have a town house for you, as well as this 
house that he is going to build in Hickory. It 
will be awfully stupid if you have to spend 
your winters buried in the snow up there in 
Hickory.” 

I am not worrying about it,” said Aunt 
Apphia, with a bright smile. Cousin Calista 
could never tease her again. I felt that, with 
relief all through my being; and with it came 
a pity for that poor, spoilt cousin, who was so 

351 


up the Witch Brook Road 


much accustomed to having every desire grati- 
fied that she was simply dumbfounded “ when 
Fate said ‘ no ^ to some ‘ yes ’ in her.” As I 
looked into her face now, it seemed prettier to 
me than I had ever seen it before. All of the 
flamboyant, simpering self-satisfaction was 
gone out of it. It had an almost elevated 
look, and I gazed at her with a surprised ad- 
miration which must have shown in my ex- 
pression, for she drew close beside the carriage 
and turned my little face up to hers and kissed 
me. 

Well, I^m sure, it is very lovely,” she re- 
peated in a mechanical way. I don’t see 
why we shouldn’t all get some mighty good 
times out of it. I’m going right to work to 
plan my dress for the wedding.” 

And so she prattled on until we drove up to 
the door, and she alighted, shaking her yellow 
curls over cheeks as white as her picnic dress, 
and with her eyes seeming to shoot out green- 
ish flames. I had never seen her look so, and 
my heart quaked with a vague fear of her, 
which makes my eyes dim as, after all these 
years, I call it up again. 


352 


XIX 


SORROW AND JOY ALTER 
NATE 


I’ve waked and slept through many nights and days 
Since then — but still that day will catch my breath 
Like a nightmare. There are fatal days indeed 
In which the fibrous years have taken root 
So deeply, that they quiver to their tops 
Whene’er you stir the dust of such a day.” 

Mrs. Browning, 










CHAPTER XIX 


Sorrow and yoy Alternate 

T hat night was a warm one, and not 
very restful for any of ns, in spite 
of onr happiness. As we gathered 
around the breakfast-table in the morning, 
grandmother remarked, with an apologetic 
laugh at her own banality, that we all looked 
as though we had been to a picnic. 

In fact, I not only looked so, but I had a 
distinct pain in my head, and so had Cousin 
Calista. After prayers were over, she threw 
herself down on the sofa in the east room, and 
tossed there uneasily for a half-hour or more, 
while I reposed in Aunt Apphia’s lap by the 
east window. 

At last. Cousin Calista sprang up, looking 
very wretched, and declared that she was sti- 
fling for fresh air. 

“Go down and sit on Sucker Rock,” ad- 
vised Aunt Apphia. 

“ It is hot down there,” grumbled Cousin 
Calista. It is hot all over the meadow. If 
355 


up the Witch Brook Road 


one of you would go with me, I would climb 
the hill. It must be deliciously cool up in the 
woods.” 

I oughtn^t to go,” mused Aunt Apphia. 

I have more to do than I can possibly man- 
age.” 

“ Then you may have company during the 
day sometime,” suggested Cousin Calista 
meaningly. 

Aunt Apphia blushed. 

“ Come, Jerry,” urged Cousin Calista. 

Aunt Jerry was prompt and explicit in her 
refusal. She, too, had more to do than she 
could well accomplish. Aunt Leah was off 
blackberrying somewhere with Elihu. The 
whole Trimble family had gone together, and, 
as grandmother sometimes remarked sadly, 
Leah was getting to be more a Trimble than a 
Wells. 

I looked at Cousin Calista, and I felt sorry 
for her. It also occurred to me that my own 
head would feel better in the pasture than 
anywhere else. I sat up in Aunt Apphia^s lap 
and gazed solemnly into Cousin Calista’s un- 
happy face. 

“ I will go with you, — if I will do,” I ven- 
tured amiably. 


356 


Sorrow and Joy Alternate 


Bless its dear little heart! ” she cried en- 
thusiastically. “ Of course, you will ‘ do.^ 
We will have a lovely time. I will take my 
book, — and you will play vdth all the pretties 
up there, I suppose.” 

J ust as we were ready to start, grandmother 
turned Cousin Calista^s face toward the light 
and looked searchingly into it. 

You don^t look a bit well, Calista,” she 
complained, in a troubled voice. “ You look 
as our little Georgie did when he came down 
with the chills and fever. I wonder how your 
pulse is.” 

She counted it. 

It isn’t too fast,” she mused. “ Are you 
chilly, Calista? ” 

No, Aunt Wells.” 

You don’t look right.” Grandmother 
shook her head ominously. “ Hadn’t you 
better go over and see Dr. Bates? ” 

“ I don’t think so,” said Cousin Calista 
lightly. I think I shall feel better after I 
have had a taste of that sweet air up on the 
hill under those evergreens.” 

Her very words sounded refreshing, and I 
was glad that I had said I would go. 

We took our hats, and were soon climbing 

357 


up the Witch Brook Road 


the pasture-hill, in the shade of the great oaks 
and beeches which bordered the cow-path. 

Occasionally we stopped to rest, and I no- 
ticed, child though I was, that Cousin Calista^s 
face did not grow red as it usually did when 
she climbed. There was something queer 
about her whole expression. I did not wonder 
that grandmother was worried about her and 
thought she was going to be sick. Still, some 
instinct told me not to mention my appre- 
hensions, and as Cousin Calista evidently did 
not feel like talking and I had nothing else to 
say, we were pretty quiet. Once, when she 
threw herself flat on the ground after we had 
had a particularly hard pull, I asked her if 
she were going to faint away; to which she 
replied with considerable asperity that she de- 
cidedly was not. She left the fainting, she 
said, to Aunt Apphia. She knew exactly how 
and when to do it in the most artistic manner. 

This offended me, though I did not quite 
understand it — but I was in no mood to be 
angry with Cousin Calista just then. 

When we finally reached the grove, we liked 
it quite as much as we had thought we should. 
It was so pleasant that we sat there content- 
edly for more than an hour. I ranged about 
358 


Sorrow and Joy Alternate 


somewhat, picking partridge-berries and run- 
ning pine, which seemed to be all the treas- 
ures growing there at that time of the year. 

At last Cousin Calista sprang up from her 
book — I remember that it was “ Shirley ” — 
and said, “ Come on, Barbara. It isn’t far 
to the Indian grave. Let’s go up there.” 

I liked that idea very well. Just behind 
the knoll were fine great rocks, among which 
I loved to play at house-keeping with acorn 
cups and saucers. While Cousin Calista 
lounged under the trees by the knoll, I would 
go up and play on the rocks. 

We toiled along through the yellow violet 
hollow,” then through the grove where we 
picked walnuts every November, and then up 
a bare hillside into the cluster of birches and 
oaks which stood just behind the Indian grave. 
The valley lay bathed in light and beauty un- 
der the full glow of the summer day. No 
smudge of smoke, no noise of rushing trains, 
disturbed its clear air or marred its repose. 
In the distance we could hear men shouting to 
their oxen. The tinkle of a cow-bell sounded 
from some far-off hill-side. Our own cows 
needed no bells. They came if we but stood at 
the pasture bars and called, ‘‘Co’boss, co’- 
359 


up the Witch Brook Road 


boss.” We could see them grazing below us, 
not far from what we called the west bars.” 
I peered over the awful ledge of the rock in 
order to find the white cow, which did not 
seem to be with the others. 

“ Take care ! ” cried Cousin Calista sharply. 

You will fall over there if you don’t take 
care. Why, don’t you know that, if you 
should fall over there, it would break every 
bone in your body? ” 

“ I’m not going to fall over,” I replied, in- 
dignantly. 

“Well — go play with your teacups,” she 
said shortly. “ You make me nervous hang- 
ing around this dangerous place. It is safer 
up there. Now go along.” 

I did not like the way in which she spoke 
to me, but I was in an obedient mood, so I 
climbed up a little rise, then turned an angle 
which hid Cousin Calista from my sight, 
though I could still hear her if she should 
speak to me in a moderately loud tone — and 
there I was, among the enchanted rocks which 
I loved so well, and which I valued all the 
more because I did not often have a chance 
to visit them. 

For a half-hour or so I played in perfect 
360 


Sorrow and Joy Alternate 


delight, singing to myself as I played. Then 
it occurred to me that I was getting a bit 
lonesome, and I ran down to the angle and 
peeped around it. There sat Cousin Calista, 
in the shade of a great birch, apparently en- 
tirely wrapped up in her reading. I ran back 
again to my cups and saucers. 

“ It will be getting time for dinner soon,” 
I reflected. “ She will call me presently to 
go home, and I had better play as hard as I 
can.” 

I was busily engaged in picking up more 
cups and saucers, when I heard a sudden 
shriek — a wild and blood-curdling sound — as 
of one in the extremity of mortal woe. I 
dropped to the ground when it struck upon my 
ears exactly as if I had been hit with a bludg- 
eon. It seemed as though I could not rise — 
but I knew that I must go and see what had 
happened. The cry did not sound like Cousin 
Calista — I had never heard her make a noise 
anything like it — but who else could have ut- 
tered it? In any case, something terrible 
must have happened. With a wrench, I picked 
myself up and ran down to the angle and 
peered around it, hoping that I might see 
again Cousin Calista's blue gingham gown 
361 


up the Witch Brook Road 


and pretty blue hat, with its stylish “ bridle ” 
hanging down in front. The hat had been 
lying on the knoll when I had last looked to- 
ward it, and there it still remained — but the 
blue gown, whither had it fled? 

Almost suffocating with terror, I crept up 
to the edge of the precipice and peeped timidly 
over it. Then, I, too, gave one long, agonized 
wail, for I could see plainly, far, far below 
me, and huddled into a motionless heap, some- 
thing soft and girlish and beautiful, with a 
gleam of blue color about it — and I knew that 
it was our poor Cousin Calista. She had said 
that it would break every bone in my body if 
I should fall over the cliff, but, oh, perhaps 
she might have fallen in some easy way — per- 
haps it had not killed her! 

With trembling limbs I skirted the edge 
of the rocks and clambered down to the very 
foot. Then I picked my way up and down, 
through the briers, and over a fallen tree, until 
I had come quite to that awful little heap of 
blue, which I found, when I crept near it, to 
be all stained and bespattered with blood. 

Cousin Calista I Cousin Calista!” I cried, 
sobbing in fright and bewilderment and al- 
362 


Sorrow and Joy Alternate 


most beside myself with the terror of my lone- 
liness. “Wake up! Wake up!” 

She did not move. I remembered how the 
young men had dashed water over Aunt Ap- 
phia and me when we were fainting. There 
was a spring not far away — fortunately the 
hillside was dotted with springs — and I hur- 
ried to it and filled my little hat with water, 
though I knew I should spoil the hat, and I 
wondered whether I really ought to do it or 
not. Then I hurried back and threw the water 
all over Cousin Calista^s scratched and blood- 
stained face. 

Still she made no motion, and now, full of 
despair, I fiew down the hillside as if I had 
wings, telling my frightful news to everybody 
whom I met on my way. They were all old 
neighbors, and I knew they would be friends 
in this terrible crisis. Then I burst into the 
east room at home with the cry, “ Come quick ; 
Come quick! She fell over the cliff — right 
over the rock ! She is killed ! She is killed ! ” 

Then I knew nothing more for many min- 
utes. 

When I came to myself, with a numb, un- 
conscious terror hanging over me, there was 

363 


up the Witch Brook Road 


nobody else left in the house but grandmother 
and Aunt Apphia. The others had all gone up 
to the fatal hillside ; and soon men came along 
the walk, bearing on a litter of hemlock boughs 
all that remained of our poor cousin. The 
doctor said that she must have died instantly 
after striking the rocks. 

Over and over and over I told my simple 
little story; and over and over they asked me, 
“ Did she seem faint when you saw her last, 
Barbara? ” Do you think she tried to reach 
something? ” “ Do you think she could have 

fallen asleep too near the edge? ” And all I 
could do was just to answer miserably, Oh, 
I don’t know! I don’t know! All that I 
know is just what I have told you.” 

And nobody will ever know. 

It was found that Cousin Calista had left a 
will. Grandfather had not drawn it, but 
Cousin Calista had told him that she had had 
a lawyer in Boston prepare her will the very 
last time she had been there. It was found 
easily among her papers, and it touched us 
all, for it was addressed to My Dear Uncle 
and Aunt Wells, and all of you whom I love so 
much.” The will was very short. In case of 
her marriage, half of her property was to go 

364 


Sorrow and Joy Alternate 


at once to her husband and children, if there 
were any; and the other half was to be used 
by grandfather and grandmother during their 
lives, and then to revert to her own family. 
In case she did not marry, grandfather and 
grandmother were to have the use of it all so 
long as they should live, and at their death, 
she wished it to go to her dear Cousin Leah 
Wells. All of her clothes were bequeathed to 
Aunt Leah also. Aunt Jerry received no be- 
quest whatever, but Aunt Apphia was to have 
Lady Jane. I felt as though that were a very 
small return for the way in which my precious 
auntie had been treated by Cousin Calista — 
but nobody could cherish resentment against 
that poor cousin now. All of her follies and 
her faults were forgotten, and we thought only 
of her merry ways, her kindness to grand- 
mother and grandfather, and her unvarying 
goodness to Aunt Leah. 

There was a double wedding in the orchard 
the next May, on the anniversary of the 
runaway, when Aunt Apphia married Mr. 
Holly, and Aunt Jerry married Kichard 
Perrine. My aunts had wished to wait 
until at least a year should have lapsed 
after the terrible catastrophe with which 

365 


up the Witch Brook Road 


the summer had closed ; but the young 
men had finished their houses, and they needed 
so much the help of their wives in furnish- 
ing and carrying them on, that grandfather 
and grandmother took sides with Mr. Holly 
and Mr. Perrine, and Aunt Apphia and Aunt 
Jerry yielded. Aunt Leah would not be mar- 
ried until the following year. 

In spite of the gloom which still hung over 
us, that double wedding was a joyous occasion ; 
and many long and shadowless years, as I 
now remember them, succeeded to that tumul- 
tuous summer, of which this is the brief and 
imperfect history. 


366 





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by Chauncey Gale, and maps, etc., from Mr. Chase’s 
note book. 

A Romance of tHe FartHest SoutH 

A Thrilling Account of Adventure 
AND Exploration at the South Pole 


<»The Great White Way is the best thing of the sort 
I’ve seen since ‘ GulliveV s Travels,"* 

'' It is far more entertaining than any account of Ant- Arctic 
discovery given to the world heretofore, and I’ll venture 
the opinion that it is fully as correct in scientific research. 
Moreover, the story will fetch all who have felt the 
* hug of the bear. ’ 

Very truly yours. 


JOSHUA SLOCUM, 

Mariner. ’ ’ 


ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE, 

V oyager. 


J. r. TAYLOR (EL COMPANY 

S it- 7 EAST SIXTEENTH ST., NEW YORK 


WEST 


NORTH 

But One Verdict 

SOUTH 


EAST 


New 

YorK 

Cal. 

Ea. 

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Neb. 

Pa. 

Me. 

Col 


THE 

CHRONIC 

LOAFER 


BY 

NELSON LLOYD 

8vo, ClotK, $1.23 


OutlooK, New YorK 

“A new American humorist. The stories have the point and dry 
force found in those told by the late lamented David Harum." 

San. Francisco Argonaut 

“Will bring a smile when it is read a second or third time.” 

New Orleans Picayune 

“Racy wth wisdom and humor.” 

CHica^o Inter-Ocean 

**A book full of good laughs, and will be found a sure specific for the 
blues.” 

OmaHa World Herald 

“The reader will love him.” 

NortH American, PHiladelpKia 

‘‘Great natural humor and charm. In this story alone Mr. Lloyd 
is deserving of rank up-front among the American humorists.” 

Portland Transcript 

“A cheerful companion. The reviewer has enjoyed it in a month 
when books to be read have been many and the time precious.” 

Denver Republican 

“Nelson Lloyd is to be hailed as a Columbus. There isn’t a story in 
the book that isn’t first-class fun, and there’s no reason why The Chronic 
Loafer should not be placed in the gallery of American celebrities beside the 
popular and philosophical Mr, Dooley." 


J. r. TAYLOR ca. COMPANY 

5 9-7 EJtSr SIXTEEMTH ST., NEW YORK 


A DROJ^E and 
A DREAMER 

By NELSON LLOYD 

Jiuthor of **The Chronic Loafer** 

AN AMERICAN LOVE STORT 
Illustrated, ClotK, 8vo, $1.50 

** * A Drone and A Dreamer * recalls the maxim of La 
Bruy ere : *Wben the reading of a book elevates the mind and 
inspires noble sentiments ^ do not seek for another rule by which 
to judge the work. It is good and made by the hand of a 
workman."* One of the cleverest and most fascinating stories, 
ill too brief, that it has ever been my pleasure to read.** 

— Walt. McDougall, in North American, 
** Capitally told. The tvhole story is rich in humor. * * 

— Outlook, 

The most delightfully original offering of the year.** 

—New Tork World, 
** A story that every one can enjoy.’* — New Tork Press, 
“At once and unreservedly we acknowledge the singu- 
lar merits of this clever romance.** 

— New Tork Times Saturday Review, 
“ Occasionally across the weary wastes of contemporary 
fiction — erotic, neurotic, tommyrotic or would-be historical, 
— comes a breath from some far, sweet land of cleanness and 
beauty. Such a story is 'A Drone and A Dreamer.* It is 
difficult to conceive of anything more charming and delight- 
ful than this book.** — Chicago Evening Post. 


J. r. TAYLOR (Q. COMPANY 

5 4 . 7 EAST SIXTEENTH ST., NEW YORK 


The Screen 

BY 

PAUL BOURGET 

Copiously Illustrated* 

Ornamental cover ^ gilt top. $1.2^ 

A. Novel of Society in Paris and l^ondon 

A fascinating love story. The character studies contained 
in this society novel of to-day are in Bourget’s most finished 
style. His power of analysis and ability to depict character 
are marvelous, and nowhere are they better illustrated than 
in The Screen. 


Stepping 

Heavenward 

BY 

ELIZABETH PRENTISS 

New Illustrated Edition. 

Ornamental cloth cover, green and silver. $i.yo 

A special holiday edition of Mrs. Prentiss* famous story, 
bound uniformly with Amelia E. Barr’s “Trinity Bells.” 
Boxed in artistic form. The two books, making a charming 
gift, ;^53.oo per set. Sold separately at $1.50 a copy. 


J. r. TAYLOR (a COMPANY 

5 «■ 7 EAST SIXTEENTH ST., NEW YORH 


LORDS %E NORTH 


By A. C. LAUT 


A Strong Historical Novel 




Z ORDS OF THE NORTH is a thrilHng romance 
dealing with the rivalries and intrigues of The Ancient 
and Honorable Hudson's Bay and the North-West 
Companies for the supremacy of the fiir trade in the 
Great North. It is a story of life in the open; of 
pioneers and trappers. The life of the fur traders in 
Canada is graphically depicted. The struggles of the Selkirk 
settlers and the intrigues which made the life of the two great 
fur trading companies so full of romantic interest, are here 
laid bare. Francis Parkman and other historians have 
written of the discovery and colonization of this part of our 
great North American continent, but no novel has appeared 
so full of life and vivid interest as Lords of the North. 
Much valuable information has been obtained from old docu- 
ments and the records of the rival companies which wielded 
unlimited power over a vast extent of our country. The 
style is admirable, and the descriptions of an untamed conti- 
nent, of vast forest wastes, rivers, lakes and prairies, will 
place this book among the foremost historical novels of the 
present day. The struggles of the English for supremacy, 
the capturing of frontier posts and forts, and the life of trader 
and trapper are pictured with a master’s hand. Besides 
being vastly interesting. Lords of the North is a book of his- 


torical value. 


Cloth, 8 VO, $1.50 


J. r. TAYLOR ca. COMPANY 

5 4-7 £jfST SIXTEENTH ST., NEW TORH 


White Butteiiflies 

By rati: UPSON CLARK 

OlotK, &VO, $1.23 

MARY E. WILK.INS 

*‘The stories are marvellous. / feel as though I were constantly find- 
ing another vein of gold. The dramatic power in some of them has never 
been excelled in any American short stories. * Solly' is a masterpiece." 

ANSON JUDD UPSON. D.D.. L.L.D.. 

CHancellor of TKe Univ. of New YorK 

“Your stories are just what I like. Your characters are exceedingly 
vivid. I cannot too warmly commend the simplicity and purity of your 
style, the vividness of your characters and the general construction of the 
stories.” 

MAROARET E. SANGSTER 

“It seems to me that no stories, long or short, have appeared, which 
illustrate more perfectly than these what we have in mind when we use, in 
a literary sense, the term ^Americanism.' The atmosphere of these beau- 
tiful tales is truthfully varied to suit every locality described, but everywhere 
the standards and ideals are set alike. A sound, health^l Americanism, 
just what we wish the word to mean, pervades them all.” 

St. Eouis Globe-Democrat 

“It is not art j it is genius.” 

YHe Nation 

“It is unusual to find so wide a range of scene and person in one col- 
lection of short stories. In each of these a strongly dramatic incident is in- 
troduced, ringing both true and real.” 

Mail and Express 

“Many a nugget of wisdom, many a bit of homely philosophy, and 
enough humor to leaven the whole.” 

Western Club Woman 

“Full of exquisite pathos, a tenderness, a delicacy of touch not often 
equalled. The art is perfect.” 

CHica^o Evening Post 

“Mrs. Clark is entitled to the thanks of a reading public.” 


J. F. TAYLOR Ca. COMPANY 

5 «. 7 EJiST SIXTEEMTH ST.. NEW YORK 


TnmiTY Bells 

By AMELIA E. BARR 

Cloth, Spo, 

Sixteen fvill-p«^e Illustrations h>jr IV^elyoa 

“Ono of tHo best stories ever written by 
A-melia H. Barr.** 

ST. LOUIS GLOBE DEMOCRAT. 

CHRISTIAN NATION. 

“Without question the best book for young girls which has appeared 
for years. Besides being interesting it has an educational value, as it is good 
supplementary reading to a school course in history. Mrs. Barr is at her 
best in Trinity Belli. We trust that every library will soon have a copy on 
its shelves.” 

LITERARY WORLD, Boston. 

“In idea and execution this is one of the author’s best works, and 
well worthy of its superb dress of silver and green.” 

THE BOOK-BUYER. 

“The name is happily chosen for this romantic story of life in New 
York during the period preceding the war with the Mediterranean corsairs, 
for the bells of Old Trinity nng out an accompaniment to the changing for- 
tunes of the lovable little Dutch heroine. There is a charm in Mrs. Barr’s 
work that goes directly to the reader’s heart, while her skill in the delinea- 
tion of character is no less effective in its appeal to the mind. Trinity Belli 
is an excellent minor historical romance, worthy of a permanent place in a 
young girl’s library.” 

BOSTON TIMES. 

‘*No more agreeable story of life in the early days of our country has 
ever been written. Trinity Belli shows Mrs, Barr’s charm and power in 
all its force and beauty. Besides its historical value, it is vastly entertaining.** 


J. r. TAYLOR ca. COMPANY 

5 4 *. 7 EMST SIXTEENTH ST., NEW YORH 


Two Sides 

OF M Qjuestion 

Life from a Woman*s Point of View 


BY 

MAY SINCLAIR 

Cloth $1.50 

A BOOH TO READ. THINK 
OVER AND DISCUSS 

"A masterpiece. The vigor of the work and the knowl- 
edge of human interest it displays are altogether exceptional. 

— The Bookman, 

“The characters are irresistible. The book should be 
read.” — St. James Gazette. 

“This book belongs to a high order of imaginative fiction, 
based on the essential realities of life.” — Athenaeum. 


J. r. TAYLOR (EL COMPANY 

5 4 . 7 EJtST SIXTEENTH ST., NEW TrORn 


The Colburn Prize 

By GABRIELLE E. JACRSON 

ILLUSTRATED BY MABEL HUMPHREY 
Ornamental OlotK Cover, $1.00 

^ ^ 

Mrs. Jackson needs no introduction. Her stories in 
the St. Nicholas magazine have won for her a warm place 
in the hearts of the girls throughout the country. The 
Colburn Prize is a charming story of mutual sacrifice by two 
school friends, and is the last and best work of the gifted 
author of Denise and Ned Toddles and Pretty Polly Perkins, 
Nine full-page illustrations add to the charm of this ex- 
quisite gift book which Mrs. Jackson has dedicated to THE 
SCHOOL GIRLS THROUGHOUT THE LAND. 


The Billy Stories 

By EVA LOVETT 

Ornamental ClotK Cover, $1.00 

Charmingly Illustrated ivith Half-Tones and Line Cuts 

if ^ yf 

Billy in the role of Pirate, Author, Rough Rider, etc., 
will be keenly enjoyed by every boy and girl, and also by 
the older people who read this book. 

.A. Humorous and most amusing set of stories 
told from tHe boy's point of view 


J. r. TAYLOR ®. COMPANY 

S *• 7 EAST SIXTEEHTH ST.. NEW YORH 


PARLOUS TIMES 

DAVID DWIGHT WELLS 
A Novel of Modem Diplomacy 

BY THE AUTHOR OF 

** Her Ladyship* s Elephant.** 

Parlous Times is a society novel of to-day. 
The scene is laid in London in diplomatic 
circles. The romance was suggested by experi- 
ences of the author while Second Secretary of 
the United States Embassy at the Court of St. 
James. It is a charming love story, with a 
theme both fresh and attractive. The plot is 
strong, and the action of the book goes with a 
rush. Political conspiracy and the secrets of 
an old tower of a castle in Sussex play an im- 
portant part in the novel. The story is a 
bright comedy, full of humor, flashes of keen 
wit and clever epigram. It will hold the 
reader’s attention from beginning to end. 
Altogether it is a good story exceedingly well 
told, and promises to be Mr. Wells* most suc- 
cessful novel. 

Cloth, 8 VO, ^LSO 


J. r. TAYLOR ca. COMPANY 

5 7 Ejisr SIXTEENTH ST., NEW YORft 


THE GIFT BOOK OF THE SEASON 

The Book of Sport 


W ritten by the following Experts : 

Col. John Jacob Astor H. H. Hunncwell, Jr. 


Oliver H. P. Belmont 
Foxhall Keene 
John E. Cowdin 
Miss Ruth Underhill 
Miss Beatrix Hoyt 
Herbert M. Harriman 
Findlay S. Douglas 
H. L. Herbert 
Lawrence M. Stockton 
George Richmond Fearing, Jr. 


Eustace H. Miles 
T. SufFren Tailer 
Edward La Montague, Sr. 
Malcolm D. Whitman 
Holcombe Ward 
J. Parmly Paret 
Ralph N. Ellis 
Albert C. Bostwick 
Herman B. Duryea 
W. P. Stephens 


Irving Cox 


Unique and badly needed.** — Caspar Whitney. 

^'An American Badminton. Superbly done. Author- 
itative. * * — Boston Herald. 

** There has never been anything like this galaxy of stars 
in the realms of amateur sporting literature.** 

— New York Herald. 

**A noble book of sports. Written for lovers of sport by 
lovers of sport. Only the best of the best has been given. 
This applies alike to articles, illustrations and book-making. 
The best possible book on amateur sport.** 

— Evening Telegraph, Philadelphia. 

For deuriptive circulars, sample pages, etc., address 

J. r. TAYLOR ca. COMPANY 

5 7 EAST SIXTEENTH ST.. NEW YORH 


Charles Ringsley 

NOVELS, POEMS AND LIFE 
CHFSTFR EDITION 

Illustrated with 42 photogravure plates printed on Japa- 
nese paper, from paintings by Zeigler, and from portraits by 
Reich and others, photographs, etc. Introducdons by Mau~ 
rice Kingsley, Printed from new, large type, on choice 
laid paper. 

/4 volumes, 8vo, cloth, gilt top, ^20.00, 
OnemHalf crushed morocco, gilt top, $45.00, 

Supplied separately in cloth, as follows: 

HEREWARD THE WAKE - - - z Vols. 

ALTON LOCKE » « 

WESTWARD HO! a » 

YEAST I « 

TWO YEARS AGO .... * « 

HYPATIA 2 “ 

POEMS 1 “ 

LETTERS AND MEMORIES - - - a 

This is the only illustrated edition of this author's 
works ever issued. The introductions by Charles Kingsley’s 
son are particularly interesting and timely. 


$^oo 

3.00 

3.00 

1.50 

3.00 

3.00 

1.50 

3.00 


J. F. TAYLOR Ca COMPANY 

5 7 EMT SIXTEENTH ST., NEW YORII 


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